One cannot expect her to weep long, especially for a man she did not care for." I ascended the hotel steps.

"Pray come in!" I said, with an inviting movement of my hand.

"You must take a glass of wine before you leave.
And so--she did not care for him, you say ?" Encouraged by my friendly invitation and manner, Ferrari became more at this ease than ever, and hooking his arm through mine as we crossed the broad passage of the hotel together, he replied in a confidential tone: "My dear conte, how CAN a woman love a man who is forced upon her by her father for the sake of the money he gives her?
As I told you before, my late friend was utterly insensible to the beauty of his wife--he was cold as a stone, and preferred his books.

Then naturally she had no love for him!" By this time we had reached my apartments, and as I threw open the door, I saw that Ferrari was taking in with a critical eye the costly fittings and luxurious furniture.

In answer to this last remark, I said with a chilly smile: "And as _I_ told YOU before, my dear Signor Ferarri, I know nothing whatever about women, and care less than nothing for their loves or hatreds! I have always thought of them more or less as playful kittens, who purr when they are stroked the right way, and scream and scratch when their tails are trodden on.