He slipped from his seat and knelt upon one knee before her, clasping one of her hands passionately between both his own.  The scene was well planned and well executed; his voice had a ring of emotion that sounded pleasantly in Donna Tullia’s ears, and his hands trembled with excitement.  She did not repulse him, being a vain woman and willing to believe in the reality of the passion so well simulated.  Perhaps, too, it was not wholly put on, for she was a handsome, dashing woman, in the prime of youth, and Del Ferice was a man who had always been susceptible to charms of that kind.  Donna Tullia hesitated, wondering what more he could say.  But he, on his part, knew the danger of trusting too much to eloquence when not backed by a greater strength than his, and he pressed her for an answer.

“Be generous—­trust me,” he cried.  “Believe that your happiness is everything to me; believe that I will take no unfair advantage of a hasty promise.  Tell me that, of your own free will, you will be my wife, arid command me anything, that I may prove my devotion.  It is so true, so honest,—­Tullia, I adore you, I live only for you!  Speak the word, and make me the happiest of men!”

He really looked handsome as he knelt before her, and she felt the light, nervous pressure of his hand at every word he spoke.  After all, what did it matter?  She might accept him, and then—­well, if she did not like the idea, she could throw him over.  It would only cost her a violent scene, and a few moments of discomfort.  Meanwhile she would get the papers.

“But you would give me the papers, would you not, and leave me to decide whether—­Really, Del Ferice,” she said, interrupting herself with a nervous laugh, “this is very absurd.”

“I implore you not to speak of the papers—­it is not absurd.  It may seem so to you, but it is life or death to me:  death if you refuse me—­life if you will speak the word and be mine!”

Donna Tullia made up her mind.  He would evidently not give her what she wanted, except in return for a promise of marriage.  She had grown used to him, almost fond of him, in the last year.

“Well, I do not know whether I am right,” she said, “but I am really very fond of you; and if you will do all I say—­”

“Everything, my dear lady; everything in the world I will do, if you will make me so supremely happy,” cried Del Ferice, ardently.

“Then—­yes; I will marry you.  Only get up and sit upon your chair like a reasonable being.  No; you really must be reasonable, or you must go away.”  Ugo was madly kissing her hands.  He was really a good actor, if it was all acting.  She could not but be moved by his pale delicate face and passionate words.  With a quick movement he sprang to his feet and stood before her, clasping his hands together and gazing into her face.

“Oh, I am the happiest man alive to-day!” he exclaimed, and the sense of triumph that he felt lent energy to his voice.