There the Conte Leandro found him, and came and sat down by his side; much, at first, to the Marchese’s annoyance.

“What! you not in the supper-room, Signor Leandro.  I thought your place was always there?” said the Marchese.

“I’m no greater a supper-eater than another; let them say what they please.  But I have just been getting a glass of wine and a biscuit in the little supper-room at the further end there.”

“What, are there two supper-rooms?  I did not know that!”

“Only a buffet in the little room at the end, where the papers generally are.  It was mainly Ludovico’s doing,—­in order to have less crowd in the supper-room,—­and perhaps to have a quiet place for a tete-a-tete supper himself.  Oh!  I knew better than not to clear out, when he and La Diva Bianca came in; specially as there was nobody else there.  Faith!  I left them there alone together.”

“Oh! that’s where he is supping, then?” said the Marchese, in the most unconcerned tone he could manage.

“Yes; supping,—­or enjoying himself in some other way, quite as delightful.  The fact is, Signor Marchese,” continued the poet, in a lowered voice, and rapidly glancing around to see that there were no ears within such a distance as to overhear his words,—­“the fact is, that I am afraid Signor Ludovico is less cautious than it would be well for him to be, circumstanced as he is!  I am sure I did not want to listen to what he and the Lalli were saying to each other.  It is nothing to me.  But they spoke with such little precaution, that I could not help overhearing what they said; and what do you think Ludovico is up to now?”

“How should I know!” said the Marchese, with the tips of his pale lips; for he was grinding his teeth together to prevent them from chattering in his head.

“He is off at six o’clock to-morrow morning tete-a-tete with La Bianca, on an excursion to the Pineta.  Coming it strong, isn’t it?”

“To-morrow morning!” said the Marchese under his breath, and with difficulty; for his blood seemed suddenly to rush back cold to his heart, and he was shivering all over.

“Niente meno!  I heard them arrange it all.  He is to slip away from the ball presently, in order to make all needful preparations, and to be at her door with a bagarino at six o’clock in the morning.  Doing the thing nicely, isn’t it?”

For a minute or two the Marchese was utterly unable to answer him a word.  His head swam round.  He felt sick.  A cold perspiration broke out all over him; and he feared that he should have fallen from his seat.

“He is a great fool for his pains,” he said at last, mastering himself by a great effort, sufficiently to enable himself to utter the words in an ordinary voice and manner.

“Well, it seemed to me a mad scheme, considering all things.  And the truth is, that I thought your lordship would very likely think it well to put a stop to it.  And that is why I have bored your lordship by mentioning it to you.”