"I suppose he is gone to Saracinesca; they say there is a very good road between that and Astrardente." "I should think he would have more decency than to pursue the Duchessa in the first month of her mourning," answered Del Ferice, resting one arm upon the piano, and supporting his pale face with his hand as he watched Donna Tullia's fingers move upon the keys.
"Why?
He does not care what people say--why should he?
He will marry her when the year is out.

Why should he care ?" "He can never marry her unless I choose to allow it," said Del Ferice, quietly.
"So you told me the other night," returned Donna Tullia.

"But you will allow him, of course.

Besides, you could not stop it, after all.

I do not believe that you could." She leaned far back in her chair, her hands resting upon the keys without striking them, and she looked at Del Ferice with a sweet smile.