He is a miserly old wretch, Saracinesca!" "I never heard that," said Corona.
"Oh, there are many things in Rome that one never hears, and that is one of them.

I hate avarice--it is so extremely vulgar." Indeed Astrardente was not himself avaricious, though he had all his life known how to protect his interests.

He loved money, but he loved also to spend it, especially in such a way as to make a great show with it.

It was not true, however, that Saracinesca was miserly.

He spent a large income without the smallest ostentation.
"Really, I should hardly call Prince Saracinesca a miser," said Corona.
"I cannot imagine, from what I know of him, why he should be so anxious to get Madame Mayer's fortune; but I do not think it is out of mere greediness." "Then I do not know what you can call it," returned her husband, sharply.
"They have always had that dismal black melancholy in that family--that detestable love of secretly piling up money, while their faces are as grave and sour as any Jew's in the Ghetto." Corona glanced at her husband, and smiled faintly as she looked at his thin old features, where the lights and shadows were touched in with delicate colour more artfully than any actress's, superficially concealing the lines traced by years of affectation and refined egotism; and she thought of Giovanni's strong manly face, passionate indeed, but noble and bold.