Pascal walked to the window and looked again upon the far-reaching acres of the Batistelli estate. “She must marry him; then I shall have half. That precious brother of mine will be killed in some drunken brawl or die a sot, then all will be mine.”
CHAPTER II.
“A MAN MUST HAVE A WIFE.”
The Countess Mont d’Oro and her son Napier sat at dinner together. They rarely spoke on such occasions, and the meal was nearly over before the Countess looked at him inquiringly and said:
“I saw you go over to the Batistelli house this morning. Some business matter, I presume.” After a pause, she asked, “Were you successful?”
“It was connected with my own personal affairs,” replied the Count, curtly.
“I suppose from your answer that you mean it is none of my business.”
“The inference is your own,” was the reply.
Both were silent for a while, then the Countess resumed: “Did you see Vivienne?”
“She was in the house; you can infer again.”
The Countess was cut by the last remark. Her manner of speaking had been pleasant, but there was a tone in her son’s reply that fired her Italian blood.