Andrea, no doubt, was the secret.

These art experts!  Here was Street, one of the best of them, a man of celebrity in his department, solemnly pronouncing for the authenticity of the fake—­in the full and innocent conviction that it was really authentic.  A sucking babe.  This man, he could see by his simple society face, had not even made an arrangement with the Count as to a commission for himself in the event of a purchase being concluded.  He was satisfied with his salary.  These experts—­what a crowd of fools they were!  Especially the honest ones.

None the less, he was delighted with Sir Herbert’s opinion.  It was exactly what he wanted.  For he meant to help the County who, he was sure, would never accept a cent from him save under a pretext like that of the sale of the Faun.  He loved old Caloveglia.  There was something clean and purposeful about him.  His friendship with such a man filled up what he knew to be a void in his own equipment as citizen of the world.  And the count was working—­was lying—­for a worthy purpose:  a daughter’s dowry.  For that reason alone he was deserving of assistance.

Mr. van Koppen was unmarried.  Knowing life as he did, from its more seamy or mercenary side, he had never brought himself to accept a single one of several hundred offers of marriage which had been more or less overtly made to him—­to his millions.  He loved the sex, as a whole; but distrusted them individually.  He thought he knew exactly what they were after.  Pearl necklaces and things.  He was a good American; fond of bestowing pearl necklaces.  But he liked to give them when, and to whom, he fancied; he meant to be his own master and to keep his painfully gotten millions under his own control.  All of which, far from extinguishing, actually fostered that queer bachelor’s feeling of reverential awe for the married state and its results.  Every form of courage and success appealed to van Koppen—­none more than the reckless impetuosity of a man who speculates in such a delirious lottery and sometimes actually draws a prize.  Such had been Count Caloveglia’s portion.  His marriage had plainly been a love-match; a success; its result, this offspring—­a daughter of whom any father might be proud.  Mr. van Koppen thoroughly understood the Count’s position.  These Italians need dowries for their girls.  Well, he should have one!  What did it signify?  One pearl necklace the less, for some operatic charmer.  Not worth talking about.  Among all h is various benefactions, none was ever projected with a lighter heart, with more sincere pleasure.  It made him glad to be a millionaire.