From the time when Corona began to notice her own predilection for Saracinesca, she had been angry with herself for it, and she tried to avoid him; at all events, she gave him no idea that she liked him especially.  Her husband, who at first had delivered many lectures on the subject of behaviour in the world, had especially warned her against showing any marked coldness to a man she wished to shun.  “Men,” said he, “are accustomed to that; they regard it as the first indication that a woman is really interested; when you want to get rid of a man, treat him systematically as you treat everybody, and he will be wounded at your indifference and go away.”  But Giovanni did not go, and Corona began to wonder whether she ought not to do something to break the interest she felt in him.

At the present moment she wanted a cup of tea.  She would have liked to send Ugo del Ferice for it; she did what she thought least pleasant to herself, and she sent Giovanni.  The servants who were serving the refreshments had all left the room, and Saracinesca went in pursuit of them.  As soon as he was gone Del Ferice spoke.  His voice was soft, and had an insinuating tone in it.

“They are saying that Don Giovanni is to be married,” he remarked, watching the Duchessa from the corners of his eyes as he indifferently delivered himself of his news.

The Duchessa was too dark a woman to show emotion easily.  Perhaps she did not believe the story; her eyes fixed themselves on some distant object in the room, as though she were intensely interested in something she saw, and she paused before she answered.

“That is news indeed, if it is true.  And whom is he going to marry?”

“Donna Tullia Mayer, the widow of the financier.  She is immensely rich, and is some kind of cousin of the Saracinesca.”

“How strange!” exclaimed Corona.  “I was just looking at her.  Is not that she over there, with the green feathers?”

“Yes,” answered Del Ferice, looking in the direction the Duchessa indicated.  “That is she.  One may know her at a vast distance by her dress.  But it is not all settled yet.”

“Then one cannot congratulate Don Giovanni to-day?” asked the Duchessa, facing her interlocutor rather suddenly.

“No,” he answered; “it is perhaps better not to speak to him about it.”

“It is as well that you warned me, for I would certainly have spoken.”

“I do not imagine that Saracinesca likes to talk of his affairs of the heart,” said Del Ferice, with considerable gravity.  “But here he comes.  I had hoped he would have taken even longer to get that cup of tea.”

“It was long enough for you to tell your news,” answered Corona quietly, as Don Giovanni came up.

“What is the news?” asked he, as he sat down beside her.

“Only an engagement that is not yet announced,” answered the Duchessa.  “Del Ferice has the secret; perhaps he will tell you.”