Here there was more clapping of hands and exclamations of pleasure, while those who were seated near Ferrari raised their glasses and drank to his health with congratulations, all of which courtesies he acknowledged by a nonchalant, self-satisfied bow.  I glanced at him again—­how tranquil he looked!—­reclining among the crimson cushions of his chair, a brimming glass of champagne beside him, the cigarette between his lips, and his handsome face slightly upturned, though his eyes rested half drowsily on the uncurtained window through which the Bay of Naples was seen glittering in the moonlight.

I continued:  “It was, gentlemen, that you might welcome and congratulate Signor Ferrari as you have done, that I assembled you here to-night—­or rather, let me say it was partly the object of our present festivity—­but there is yet another reason which I shall now have the pleasure of explaining to you—­a reason which, as it concerns myself and my immediate happiness, will, I feel confident, secure your sympathy and good wishes.”

This time every one was silent, intently following my words.

“What I am about to say,” I went on, calmly, “may very possibly surprise you.  I have been known to you as a man of few words, and, I fear, of abrupt and brusque manners”—­cries of “No, no!” mingled with various complimentary assurances reached my ears from all sides of the table.  I bowed with a gratified air, and when silence was restored—­“At any rate you would not think me precisely the sort of man to take a lady’s fancy.”  A look of wonder and curiosity was now exchanged among my guests.  Ferrari took his cigarette out of his mouth and stared at me in blank astonishment.

“No,” I went on, meditatively, “old as I am, and a half-blind invalid besides, it seems incredible that any woman should care to look at me more than twice en passant.  But I have met—­let me say with the Chevalier Mancini—­an angel—­who has found me not displeasing to her, and—­in short—­I am going to marry!”

There was a pause.  Ferrari raised himself slightly from his reclining position and seemed about to speak, but apparently changing his mind he remained silent—­his face had somewhat paled.  The momentary hesitation among my guests passed quickly.  All present, except Guido, broke out into a chorus of congratulations, mingled with good-humored jesting and laughter.

“Say farewell to jollity, conte!” cried Chevalier Mancini; “once drawn along by the rustling music of a woman’s gown, no more such feasts as we have had to-night!”

And he shook his head with tipsy melancholy.

“By all the gods!” exclaimed Gualdro, “your news has surprised me!  I should have thought you were the last man to give up liberty for the sake of a woman.  One woman, too!  Why, man, freedom could give you twenty!”

“Ah!” murmured Salustri, softly and sentimentally, “but the one perfect pearl—­the one flawless diamond—­”