Del Ferice read over what he had written with considerable satisfaction, and having addressed his letter to Donna Tullia, he lost no time in despatching Temistocle with it, instructing him to ask if there would be an answer.  As soon as the man was out of the house, Ugo rang for his landlady, and sent for the porter’s little boy, to whom he delivered the letter to Don Giovanni, to be dropped into the nearest post-box.  Then he lay down, exhausted with his morning’s work.  In the course of two hours Temistocle returned from Donna Tullia’s house with a little scented note—­too much scented, and the paper just a shade too small.  She took no notice of what he had said in his carefully penned epistle; but merely told him she was sincerely glad that he was better, and asked him to call as soon as he could.  Ugo was not disappointed; he had expected no compromising expression of interest in response to his own effusions; and he was well pleased with the invitation, for it showed that what he had written had produced the desired result.

Don Giovanni Saracinesca received the anonymous note late in the evening.  He had, of course, together with his father, deposited cards of condolence at the Palazzo Astrardente, and he had been alone to inquire if the Duchessa would receive him.  The porter had answered that, for the present, there were standing orders to admit no one; and as Giovanni could boast of no especial intimacy, and had no valid excuse to give, he was obliged to be satisfied.  He had patiently waited in the Villa Borghese and by the band-stand on the Pincio, taking it for granted that sooner or later Corona’s carriage would appear; but when at last he had seen her brougham, she had driven rapidly past him, thickly veiled, and he did not think she had even noticed him.  He would have written to her, but he was still unable to hold a pen; and he reflected that, after all, it would have been a hideous farce for him to offer condolences and sympathy, however much he might desire to hide from himself his secret satisfaction at her husband’s death.  Too proud to think of obtaining information through such base channels as Del Ferice was willing to use, he was wholly ignorant of Corona’s intentions; and it was a brilliant proof of Ugo’s astuteness that he had rightly judged Giovanni’s position with regard to her, and justly estimated the value of the news conveyed by his anonymous note.

Saracinesca read the scrap of writing, and tossed it angrily into the fire.  He hated underhand dealings, and scorned himself for the interest the note excited in him, wondering who could find advantage in informing him of the Duchessa’s movements.  But the note took effect, nevertheless, although he was ashamed of it, and all night he pondered upon what it told him.  The next day, at three o’clock, he went out alone, and walked rapidly towards the Palazzo Astrardente.  He was unable to bear the suspense any longer; the thought that Corona was going