“I cannot, since I am bound by my promise,” said Donna Tullia.

“No; I am sure you will not think of doing it.  But then, we might perhaps agree that circumstances made it advisable to act.  Many months must pass before he can think of offering himself to her.  It will be time enough to consider the matter then—­to consider whether we should be justified in raising such a terrible scandal, in causing so much unhappiness to an innocent woman like the Duchessa, and to a worthless man like Don Giovanni.  Think what a disgrace it would be to the Saracinesca to have it made public that Giovanni was openly engaged to marry a great heiress while already secretly married to a peasant woman!”

“It would indeed be horrible,” said Donna Tullia, with a disagreeable look in her blue eyes.  “Perhaps we should not even think of it,” she added, turning over the leaves of the music upon the piano.  Then suddenly she added, “Do you know that you have put me in a dreadful position by exacting that promise from me?”

“No,” said Del Ferice, quietly.  “You wanted to hear the secret.  You have heard it.  You have nothing to do but to keep it to yourself.”

“That is precisely—­” She checked herself, and struck a loud chord upon the instrument.  She had turned from Del Ferice, and could not see the smile upon his face, which flickered across the pale features and vanished instantly.

“Think no more about it,” he said pleasantly.  “It is so easy to forget such stories when one resolutely puts them out of one’s mind.”

Donna Tullia smiled bitterly, and was silent.  She began playing from the sheet before her, with indifferent accuracy, but with more than sufficient energy.  Del Ferice sat patiently by her side, turning over the leaves, and glancing from time to time at her face, which he really admired exceedingly.  He belonged to the type of pale and somewhat phlegmatic men who frequently fall in love with women of sanguine complexion and robust appearance.  Donna Tullia was a fine type of this class, and was called handsome, though she did not compare well with women of less pretension to beauty, but more delicacy and refinement.  Del Ferice admired her greatly, however; and, as has been said, he admired her fortune even more.  He saw himself gradually approaching the goal of his intentions, and as he neared the desired end he grew more and more cautious.  He had played one of his strongest cards that night, and he was content to wait and let matters develop quietly, without any more pushing from him.  The seed would grow, there was no fear of that, and his position was strong.  He could wait quietly for the result.