It was true that Giovanni had last been seen in the Astrardente box at the opera; but he had not remained five minutes seated by the Duchessa before he had suddenly invented a shallow excuse for leaving; and finally, there was no doubt that at that very moment Corona had seemed violently agitated.
Giovanni had not reappeared till the night of the Frangipani ball, and the duel had taken place on the very next morning.

Astrardente could not reason--his mind was too much disturbed by his anger against Valdarno; but a vague impression that there was something wrong in it all, drove him homewards in wild excitement.

He was ill, too, and had he been in a frame of mind to reflect upon himself, he would have noticed that his heart was beating with ominous irregularity.

He did not even think of taking a cab, but hurried along on foot, finding, perhaps, a momentary relief in violent exertion.

The old blood rushed to his face in good earnest, and shamed the delicately painted lights and shadows touched in by the master-hand of Monsieur Isidore, the cosmopolitan valet.
Valdarno remained seated in the cafe, rather disturbed at what he had done.