questions concerning him, had made her feel that he could not long hang back.  She had been in the habit of treating him familiarly; and he, tutored by his father to the belief that she was the best match for him, and reluctantly yielding to the force of circumstances, which seemed driving him into matrimony, had suffered himself to be ordered about and made use of with an indifference which, in Madame Mayer’s eyes, had passed for consent.  She had watched with growing fear and jealousy his devotion to the Astrardente, which all the world had noticed; and at last her anger had broken out at the affront she had received at the Frangipani ball.  But even then she loved Giovanni in her own vain way.  It was not till Corona was suddenly left a widow, that Donna Tullia began to realise the hopelessness of her position; and when she found how determinately Saracinesca avoided her wherever they met, the affection she had hitherto felt for him turned into a bitter hatred, stronger even than her jealousy against the Duchessa.  There was no scene of explanation between them, no words passed, no dramatic situation, such as Donna Tullia loved; the change came in a few days, and was complete.  She had not even the satisfaction of receiving some share of the attention Giovanni would have bestowed upon Corona if she had been in town.  Not only had he grown utterly indifferent to her; he openly avoided her, and thereby inflicted upon her vanity the cruellest wound she was capable of feeling.

With Donna Tullia to hate was to injure, to long for revenge—­not of the kind which is enjoyed in secret, and known only to the person who suffers and the person who causes the suffering.  She did not care for that so much as she desired some brilliant triumph over her enemies before the world; some startling instance of poetic justice, which should at one blow do a mortal injury to Corona d’Astrardente, and bring Giovanni Saracinesca to her own feet by force, repentant and crushed, to be dealt with as she saw fit, according to his misdeeds.  But she had chosen her adversaries ill, and her heart misgave her.  She had no hold upon them, for they were very strong people, very powerful, and very much respected by their fellows.  It was not easy to bring them into trouble; it seemed impossible to humiliate them as she wished to do, and yet her hate was very strong.  She waited and pondered, and in the meanwhile, when she met Giovanni, she began to treat him with haughty coldness.  But Giovanni smiled, and seemed well satisfied that she should at last give over what was to him very like a persecution.  Her anger grew hotter from its very impotence.  The world saw it, and laughed.

The days of Carnival came and passed, much as they usually pass, in a whirl of gaiety.  Giovanni went everywhere, and showed his grave face; but he talked little, and of course every one said he was melancholy at the departure of the Duchessa.  Nevertheless he kept up an appearance of interest in what was done, and as nobody cared to risk asking him questions, people left him in peace.  The hurrying crowd of social life filled up the place occupied by old Astrardente and the beautiful Duchessa, and they were soon forgotten, for they had not had many intimate friends.