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Nera Boccarini, of course," responded two or three voices, amid a general titter. "I don't think Nobili cares a straw about Nera," put in the languid Franchi, drawling out his words. "I have heard quite another story about Nobili. Give Nera to Ruspoli. He seems about to take her for life. I wish him joy!" with a sneer. "Ruspoli likes English manners.
Now he glances from man to man in an appeal defiant, yet pleading, pitiful to behold. Every face grows grave. Orsetti is the first to reply. "I feel deeply for you, Nobili. We all love you." "Yes, all," responded Malatesta and Ruspoli, speaking together. "You must not attach too much importance to idle gossip," says Orsetti. "No, no," cried Ruspoli, "don't. I will stand by you, Nobili.
Orsetti now was speaking. "Marescotti has fled from the police. Nothing but a sonnet addressed to the lady a poet's day-dream untrue of course." "Will no one tell me what the sonnet said?" demanded Nobili. He had mastered himself for the moment. "Stuff, stuff!" cried Ruspoli. "Every pretty woman has heaps of sonnets and admirers. It is a brevet of beauty.
Now, having with lover's haste made good progress with all he had to do, Nobili has come down to the club to meet his friends, and to receive their congratulations. Every hand is stretched out toward him. Even Ruspoli, spite of obvious jealousy, liked him. Nobili's face is lit up with its sunniest smile. Having shaken hands with him, an ominous silence ensues.
Now, Nera, who had been dancing much with Prince Ruspoli, had heard from him that Nobili was selected as her partner in the cotillon. "Another of your victims," Prince Ruspoli had said, with a kindling eye. Nera had laughed gayly. "My victims?" she retorted. "I wish you would tell me who they are." This question was accompanied by a most inviting glance.
"What news have you heard?" asked Beppo Malatesta. "There's such a lot." "Wall, the news I have heard is, that Count Nobili is engaged to marry the Marchesa Guinigi's little niece. Dear little thing, they say like an English 'mees' fair, with red hair." "Is that your style of beauty?" lisped Orazio, looking hard at him. But Ruspoli did not notice him. "But that's not half," cried Malatesta.
The Archbishop of Sydney was asking, through our station at Bombay, whether the news was true. I replied I had heard nothing of it. Within ten minutes four more inquiries had come to the same effect; and three minutes later Cardinal Ruspoli sent the positive news from Turin. This was accompanied by a similar message from Father Petrovski in Moscow. Then " "Stop.
"'I am not yet sure. Cardinal Malpas tells me that Felsenburgh gave his provisional consent on the previous day." "Very good. That is all you know, then?" "'I was called up an hour ago by Cardinal Ruspoli again. He tells me that he fears a riot in Florence; it will be the first of many revolutions, he says." "Does he ask for anything?" "'Only for directions."
The color has left his cheeks; his blue eyes grow dark. "There has been some foolish gossip from persons who know nothing," Orsetti answers, advancing to the front. "About some engagement with another gentleman, whom she had accepted " "Nonsense! Don't listen to him, my good fellow," breaks in Ruspoli. "These lads have nothing to do but to breed scandal.
He ran his eyes over them as he stopped, waiting behind his master's chair there were two he knew, remembering them from last night dark-faced Cardinal Ruspoli, and the lean Australian Archbishop, besides Cardinal Corkran, who stood by his chair at the Pope's own table, with papers laid ready. Silvester sat down, and with a little gesture caused the others to sit too.
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