“Do you mean to say you have not repeatedly refused to marry?” inquired old Saracinesca.

“That would be untrue.  I have refused, I do refuse, and I will refuse, just so long as it pleases me.”

“That is definite, at all events.  You will go on refusing until you have broken your silly neck in imitating Englishmen, and then—­good night Saracinesca!  The last of the family will have come to a noble end!”

“If the only use of my existence is to become the father of heirs to your titles, I do not care to enjoy them myself.”

“You will not enjoy them till my death, at all events.  Did you ever reflect that I might marry again?”

“If you please to do so, do not hesitate on my account.  Madame Mayer will accept you as soon as me.  Marry by all means, and may you have a numerous progeny; and may they all marry in their turn, the day they are twenty.  I wish you joy.”

“You are intolerable, Giovanni.  I should think you would have more respect for Donna Tullia—­”

“Than to call her Madame Mayer,” interrupted Giovanni.

“Than to suggest that she cares for nothing but a title and a fortune—­”

“You showed much respect to her a moment ago, when you suggested that she was ready to rush into my arms.”

“I!  I never said such a thing.  I said that any woman—­”

“Including Madame Mayer, of course,” interrupted Giovanni again.

“Can you not let me speak?” roared the Prince.  Giovanni shrugged his shoulders a little, poured out a glass of wine, and helped himself to cheese, but said nothing.  Seeing that his son said nothing, old Saracinesca was silent too; he was so angry that he had lost the thread of his ideas.  Perhaps Giovanni regretted the quarrelsome tone he had taken, for he presently spoke to his father in a more conciliatory tone.

“Let us be just,” he said.  “I will listen to you, and I shall be glad if you will listen to me.  In the first place, when I think of marriage I represent something to myself by the term—­”

“I hope so,” growled the old man.

“I look upon marriage as an important step in a man’s life.  I am not so old as to make my marriage an immediate necessity, nor so young as to be able wholly to disregard it.  I do not desire to be hurried; for when I make up my mind, I intend to make a choice which, if it does not ensure happiness, will at least ensure peace.  I do not wish to marry Madame Mayer.  She is young, handsome, rich—­”

“Very,” ejaculated the Prince.

“Very.  I also am young and rich, if not handsome.”

“Certainly not handsome,” said his father, who was nursing his wrath, and meanwhile spoke calmly.  “You are the image of me.”

“I am proud of the likeness,” said Giovanni, gravely.  “But to return to Madame Mayer.  She is a widow—­”

“Is that her fault?” inquired his father irrelevantly, his anger rising again.