she did not answer.

      'Of course, if you had been in love with me, or I with you, it would have been different. But as it was—'

      'I see my cousin Violante in the corner there; will you lead me to her?'

      I did as she asked, and as she was bowing me my dismissal I said,—

      'We have had a very pleasant talk, and we are quite good friends, are we not?'

      'Quite!' she said.

      I drew a long breath as I left her. I hoped I had hurt; I hoped I had humiliated her. I wished I could have thought of things to say that would have cut her to the heart. I was quite indifferent to her, but when I remembered—I hated her.

      I knew everyone in Forli by now, and as I turned away from Giulia I had no lack of friends with whom to talk. The rooms became more crowded every moment. The assembly was the most brilliant that Forli had ever seen; and as the evening wore on the people became more animated; a babel of talk drowned the music, and the chief topic of conversation was the wonderful beauty of Caterina. She was bubbling over with high spirits; no one knew what had happened to make her so joyful, for of late she had suffered a little from the unpopularity of her husband, and a sullen look of anger had replaced the old smiles and graces. But to-night she was herself again. Men were standing round talking to her, and one heard a shout of laughter from them as every now and then she made some witty repartee; and her conversation gained another charm from a sort of soldierly bluntness which people remembered in Francesco Sforza, and which she had inherited. People also spoke of the cordiality of Girolamo towards our Checco; he walked up and down the room with him, arm in arm, talking affectionately; it reminded the onlookers of the time when they had been as brothers together. Caterina occasionally gave them a glance and a little smile of approval; she was evidently well pleased with the reconciliation.

      I was making my way through the crowd, watching the various people, giving a word here and there or a nod, and I thought that life was really a very amusing thing. I felt mightily pleased with myself, and I wondered where my good friend Claudia was; I must go and pay her my respects.

      'Filippo!'

      I turned and saw Scipione Moratini standing by his sister, with a number of gentlemen and ladies, most of them known to me.

      'Why are you smiling so contentedly?' he said. 'You look as if you had lost a pebble and found a diamond in its place.'

      'Perhaps I have; who knows?'

      At that moment I saw Ercole Piacentini enter the room with his wife; I wondered why they were so late. Claudia was at once seized upon by one of her admirers, and, leaving her husband, sauntered off on the proffered arm. Ercole came up the room on his way to the Count. His grim visage was contorted into an expression of amiability, which sat on him with an ill grace.

      'This is indeed a day of rejoicing,' I said; 'even the wicked ogre is trying to look pleasant.'

      Giulia gave a little silvery laugh. I thought it forced.

      'You have a forgiving spirit, dear friend,' she said, accenting the last word in recollection of what I had said to her. 'A truly Christian disposition!'

      'Why?' I asked, smiling.

      'I admire the way in which you have forgiven Ercole for the insults he has offered you; one does not often find a gentleman who so charitably turns his other cheek to the smiter!'

      I laughed within myself; she was trying to be even with me. I was glad to see that my darts had taken good effect. Scipione interposed, for what his sister had said was sufficiently bitter.

      'Nonsense, Giulia!' he said. 'You know Filippo is the last man to forgive his enemies until the breath is well out of their bodies; but circumstances—'

      Giulia pursed up her lips into an expression of contempt.

      'Circumstances. I was surprised, because I remembered the vigour with which Messer Filippo had vowed to revenge himself.'

      'Oh, but Messer Filippo considers that he has revenged himself very effectively,' I said.

      'How?'

      'There are more ways of satisfying one's honour than by cutting a hole in a person's chest.'

      'What do you mean, Filippo?' said Scipione.

      'Did you not see as he passed?'

      'Ercole? What?'

      'Did you not see the adornment of his noble head, the elegant pair of horns?'

      They looked at me, not quite understanding; then I caught sight of Claudia, who was standing close to us.

      'Ah, I see the diamond I have found in place of the pebble I have lost. I pray you excuse me.'

      Then as they saw me walk towards Claudia they understood, and I heard a burst of laughter. I took my lady's hand, and bowing deeply, kissed it with the greatest fervour. I glanced at Giulia from the corner of my eyes and saw her looking down on the ground, with a deep blush of anger on her face. My heart leapt for joy to think that I had returned something of the agony she had caused me.

      The evening grew late and the guests began to go. Checco, as he passed me, asked,—

      'Are you ready?'

      'Yes!' I said, accompanying him to Girolamo and the Countess to take our leave.

      'You are very unkind, Checco,' said the Countess. 'You have not come near me the whole evening.'

      'You have been so occupied,' he answered.

      'But I am not now,' she replied, smiling.

      'The moment I saw you free I came to you.'

      'To say good-bye.'

      'It is very late.'

      'No, surely; sit down and talk to me.'

      Checco did as he was bid, and I, seeing he meant to stay longer, sauntered off again in search of friends. The conversation between Checco and the Countess was rather hindered by the continual leave-takings, as the people began to go away rapidly, in groups. I sat myself down in a window with Matteo, and we began comparing notes of our evening; he told me of a new love to whom he had discovered his passion for the first time.

      'Fair wind, foul wind?' I asked, laughing.

      'She pretended to be very angry,' he said, 'but she allowed me to see that if the worst came to the worst she would not permit me to break my heart.'

      I looked out into the room and found that everyone had gone, except Ercole Piacentini, who was talking to the Count in undertones.

      'I am getting so sleepy,' said Matteo. We went forward to the Countess, who said, as she saw us come,—

      'Go away, Matteo! I will not have you drag Checco away yet; we have been trying to talk to one another for the last half-hour, and now that we have the chance at last I refuse to be disturbed.'

      'I would not for worlds rob Checco of such pleasure,' said Matteo; adding to me, as we retired to our window, 'What a nuisance having to wait for one's cousin while a pretty woman is flirting with him!'

      'You have me to talk to—what more can you want!'

      'I don't want to talk to you at all,' he answered, laughing.

      Girolamo was still with Ercole. His mobile eyes were moving over the room, hardly ever resting on Ercole's face, but sometimes on us, more often on Checco. I wondered whether he was jealous.

      At last Checco got up and said Good-night. Then Girolamo came forward.

      'You are not going yet,' he said. 'I want to speak with you on the subject of those taxes.'

      It was the first time he had mentioned them.

      'It is getting so late,' said Checco, 'and these good gentlemen are tired.'

      'They can go home. Really, it is very urgent.'

      Checco hesitated, and