“Yes,” answered Saracinesca, shortly; he was beginning to weary of Donna Tullia’s manner of taking him to task.

“You had much better come with us, and leave the poor foxes alone.  Valdarno is going to drive us round by the cross-roads to the Capannelle.  We will have a picnic lunch, and be home before three o’clock.”

“Thanks very much.  I cannot let my horse shirk his work.  I must beg you to excuse me—­”

“Again?” exclaimed Donna Tullia.  “You are always making excuses.”  Then she suddenly changed her tone, and looked down.  “I wish you would come with us,” she said, gently.  “It is not often I ask you to do anything.”

Giovanni looked at her quickly.  He knew that Donna Tullia wished to marry him; he even suspected that his father had discussed the matter with her—­no uncommon occurrence when a marriage has to be arranged with a widow.  But he did not know that Donna Tullia was in love with him in her own odd fashion.  He looked at her, and he saw that as she spoke there were tears of vexation in her bold blue eyes.  He hesitated a moment, but natural courtesy won the day.

“I will go with you,” he said, quietly.  A blush of pleasure rose to Madame Mayer’s pink cheeks; she felt she had made a point, but she was not willing to show her satisfaction.

“You say it as though you were conferring a favour,” she said, with a show of annoyance, which was belied by the happy expression of her face.

“Pardon me; I myself am the favoured person,” replied Giovanni, mechanically.  He had yielded because he did not know how to refuse; but he already regretted it, and would have given much to escape from the party.

“You do not look as though you believed it,” said Donna Tullia, eyeing him critically.  “If you are going to be disagreeable, I release you.”  She said this well knowing, the while, that he would not accept of his liberty.

“If you are so ready to release me, as you call it, you do not really want me,” said her companion.  Donna Tullia bit her lip, and there was a moment’s pause.  “If you will excuse me a moment I will send my horse home—­I will join you at once.”

“There is your horse—­right before us,” said Madame Mayer.  Even that short respite was not allowed him, and she waited while Don Giovanni ordered the astonished groom to take his hunter for an hour’s exercise in a direction where he would not fall in with the hounds.

“I did not believe you would really do it,” said Donna Tullia, as the two turned and sauntered back towards the carriages.  Most of the men who meant to follow had already mounted, and the little crowd had thinned considerably.  But while they had been talking another carriage had driven into the field, and had halted a few yards from Valdarno’s drag.  Astrardente had taken it into his head to come to the meet with his wife, and they had arrived late.  Astrardente always arrived a little late, on principle.  As Giovanni and Donna Tullia came back to their drag, they suddenly found themselves face to face with the Duchessa and her husband.  It did not surprise Corona to see Giovanni walking with the woman he did not intend to marry, but it seemed to give the old Duke undisguised pleasure.