That her conduct at Ravenna had been correct was undeniable.  Still, even with regard to that, the Marchese was not spared the pangs of jealousy, in addition to all the rest.  Ludovico continued to frequent the house in the Strada di Porta Sisi.  It seemed, as he had said at the Circolo, as if Bianca wished him to come there.  In fact he had spoken to the young men at the Circolo with perfect truth in all respects as to his relations with the Diva.  There had never been any word of love-making or even flirting between them.  Yet, in a sort of way, she seemed to wish to be agreeable to him and to attract him.  But she never made any secret of his visits from the Marchese, although it was unmistakable enough that it was disagreeable to him to hear of them.

Had he been free from the spell himself he would have rather rejoiced that his nephew had met with an attraction, which would be likely to have the effect of making him faithless to Paolina.  As it was, it was an additional source of irritation to the Marchese,—­ another drop of gall in his cup, to hear it constantly mentioned by Bianca in the most innocent way in the world, that Ludovico had been here with her, or there with her, or passing the morning with her!

It was drawing towards the end of the Carnival, which the late fall of Easter had made rather a long one that year, when, on one Saturday night, Bianca sat by her own fireside, expecting a visit from the Marchese.  She doubted not that he would come, though no special appointment on the subject had been made between them.  There were few “off evenings” now, that he did not spend with her.  Saturday in most of the cities of Italy is, or was, an off night at the theatre, being the vigil of the Sunday feast-day.  The ecclesiastical proprieties are less attended to now in matters theatrical, as in other matters in Italy.  But Saturday used, in ante-revolutionary times, to be an evening on which actors and actresses and their friends could always reckon for a holiday.

Bianca was sitting, exquisitely dressed, it need hardly be said, in a style which combined with inimitable skill all the requirements of the most strict propriety with perfect adaptation to the objects of showing off every beauty of face, hair, hand, figure, foot to the utmost, and attracting her expected visitor as irresistibly as possible.

Quinto Lalli had been sent to enjoy himself at the Cafe, with stringent directions not to return before he should have ascertained that the Marchese had left the house, let the hour be as late as it might.

Bianca meditated deeply, while she waited her lover’s coming.

Her lover! yes, there was no doubt about that.  Bianca had felt perfectly assured that she was justified in considering the Marchese as such on that first morning, when he had come to her an hour in advance of the time appointed for his visit in company with the impresario.  But it was high time that some better understanding of the footing on which they stood as regarded each other should be arrived at.