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Updated: June 28, 2025
She wondered vaguely why it was so much more apparent in Don Giovanni than in her uncle the prince. Prince Sansevero seemed quite modern; the Marchese di Valdo, though more modern actually than his brother, still seemed to keep his touch on the age that was past. "Do these old legends please you, Mademoiselle? Or are you too restless? Too progressive?
The talk lasted until luncheon was served. Giovanni put in an appearance, and Derby was pressed to stay. As di Valdo and the American met, there was a barely perceptible coldness under the Italian's good manners, while Derby's greeting showed a momentary curiosity. Two more sharply contrasted beings could hardly have been brought together.
It may further be observed, in opposition to the opinion of the Waldenses being named after Peter Waldo, that his second name does not appear as applied to him prior to his condemnation as an heretic; and, moreover, the various ways in which it is written, e.g., sometimes Valdo, sometimes Valdus, at other times Valdesius or Valdensis, shows that the word was not a proper name, but a mere appellative.
It is not the 'Principe' before Sansevero that gives it renown. Don Giovanni Sansevero is a greater title than the Marchese Di Valdo, by which Giovanni is generally known. Yet Di Valdo is a good name, too, let me tell you." The Princess Sansevero kept Minotti's attention as much as possible, so that it might appear that Carpazzi's arraignment had not been heard.
What would Pat and his lively confrères do to us? We need not have feared. Not in the most genial club could we have been more kindly treated than in the dressing room where we found Pat Valdo opening his trunk and getting out the antic costumes he had provided. We happened to stand by him as he was waiting to go on, and in his shrewd and critical orb we saw a complete disdain.
We hear Miss May Wirth, the Wonder Rider of the World, complaining bitterly that someone got in front of her when she was doing her particularly special stunt. We wonder dubiously whether we were the guilty one. Alas, it is all over but the washing up. Pat Valdo, gentlest of hosts, is taking off his trick hat with the water cistern concealed in it.
They had had visions of dire jests and grievous humiliations: of finding themselves suddenly astride the bare backs of berserk mules, or hoisted by blazing petards, or douched with mysterious cascades of icy water. Pat Valdo had written: "I am glad to hear you are going to clown a bit. I hope you both will enjoy the experience." To our overwrought imaginations this sounded a little ominous.
He spotted us at once. He knew us for interlopers. He knew that we were not a real clown, and his eye showed a spark of scorn. A liberal coating of clown-white, well rubbed into the palms before applying; a rich powdering of talcum; and decorations applied by Pat Valdo with his red and black paint-sticks these give an effect that startles the amateur when he considers himself in the mirror.
"Count Tornik," said the marchesa, "will you take Miss Randolph to the Princess Sansevero, or where her numerous partners may find her?" Count Tornik bowed again, this time to Nina. "Will you dance? I don't dance as well as di Valdo."
"You say that because you are an American yourself!" He let the injustice of her remark pass unnoticed. "I merely repeat," he said calmly, "that, married to the Marchese di Valdo, you would be a very unhappy woman. That is my straight opinion. If you don't like it, I can't help it." "Why should I be unhappy?" "Don't let's discuss it." "That is just like an American.
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