"What do I mean? Why, my dear Lucille, aren't you afraid that, to speak plainly, Ferdinand may—fall in love with Miss Leslie?"
The old princess looked at her for a moment with a mild surprise, then she drew her slight figure up to its full height and smiled with placid hauteur.
"Ferdinand will not fall in love with Miss Leslie," she said, with an air of calm conviction.
"Oh," said the countess, dryly. "Does he wear an amulet warranted to protect him from such eyes as hers, such beauty as hers?"
"Yes," said the mother. "Ferdinand wears such an amulet. It is the consciousness of his rank and all its duties and responsibilities. Miss Leslie is a most charming girl, and Florence and I are attached to her; but Ferdinand——" she paused and smiled. "I know Ferdinand very well, I think, my dear, so well, that if you were to hint that he was likely to fall in love with one of the maid-servants I should be as little alarmed."
The countess looked at her with a strange smile, then glanced at the prince and Margaret.
"My dear Lucille," she said, "I beg your pardon. Of course, you are quite right, and there is no danger. There has never been an instance of one of our rank marrying beneath him, has there?" and she laughed ironically.
The signora smiled and shook her head.
"My dear," she said, "there isn't a prouder man in Italy than Ferdinand. I am not at all uneasy."