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.