“For me?” said Donna Tullia.  “What would you do for me?” She smiled sweetly, willing to use all her persuasion to extract his secret.

“I could prevent Don Giovanni from marrying the Astrardente, as he intends to do,” he answered, looking straight at his companion.

“How in the world could you do that?” she asked, in great surprise.

“That, my dear friend, is my secret, as I said before.  I cannot reveal it to you at present.”

“You are as dark as the Holy Office,” said Donna Tullia, a little impatiently.  “What possible harm could it do if you told me?”

“What possible good either?” asked Del Ferice, in reply.  “You could not use it as I could.  You would gain no advantage by knowing it.  Of course,” he added, with a laugh, “if we entered into the alliance we were jesting about, it would be different.”

“You will not tell me unless I promise to marry you?”

“Frankly, no,” he answered, still laughing.

It exasperated Donna Tullia beyond measure to feel that he was in possession of what she so coveted, and to feel that he was bargaining, half in earnest, for her life in exchange for his secret.  She was almost tempted for one moment to assent, to say she would marry him, so great was her curiosity; it would be easy to break her promise, and laugh at him afterwards.  But she was not a bad woman, as women of her class are considered.  She had suffered a great disappointment, and her resentment was in proportion to her vanity.  But she was not prepared to give a false promise for the sake of vengeance; she was only bad enough to imagine such bad faith possible.

“But you said you never seriously thought I could accept such an engagement,” she objected, not knowing what to say.

“I did,” replied Del Ferice.  “I might have added that I never seriously contemplated parting with my secret.”

“There is nothing to be got from you,” said Donna Tullia, in a tone of disappointment.  “I think that when you have nearly driven me mad with curiosity, you might really tell me something.”

“Ah no, dear lady,” answered her companion.  “You may ask anything of me but that—­anything.  You may ask that too, if you will sign the treaty I propose.”

“You will drive me into marrying you out of sheer curiosity,” said Donna Tullia, with an impatient laugh.

“I wish that were possible.  I wish I could see my way to telling you as it is, for the thing is so curious that it would have the most intense interest for you.  But it is quite out of the question.”

“You should never have told me anything about it,” replied Madame Mayer.

“Well, I will think about it,” said Del Ferice at last, as though suddenly resolving to make a sacrifice.  “I will look over some papers I have, and I will think about it.  I promise you that if I feel that I can conscientiously tell you something of the matter, you may be sure that I will.”