"Life? One might put it in three words: One must work!"
Zoya shook her head—she did it charmingly. "No, no," she said softly; "you are altogether wrong—though I also can put it in three words. Life lies in this: One must love. That's all there is!"
The conversation ended there, for the Duke Scorpa and Count Masco came up to speak to the contessa. Derby arose and was about to leave when the duke stopped him. Masco sat down to talk with Zoya, and Scorpa spoke to Derby in an undertone. "I hear you are going to Sicily to-morrow?"
"Yes, I leave early in the morning."
"Take my advice"—his glance was sinister—"and stay away."
Derby smiled frankly. "May I ask why?"
"Because your process will not work."
"That might be taken in two ways," Derby rejoined: "either that you believe my patents useless, or else that some means will be taken to prevent my trying them. I rather wonder—after our conversation on the subject—if you intend a threat?" He spoke without stress of feeling, quite simply, in fact.
The duke's unctuous smile was not wholly pleasant to see. "That is for you to decide. To-morrow morning you intend to go. That is not far off; but you have until then to reconsider your refusal to sell me your patents. I made you a fair offer, which I should in your place accept. However, if you go to Sicily"—he spread out his hands with a shrug—"I shall have warned you, and whatever comes will be off my conscience."
For answer Derby spoke quietly, but with clear, level distinctness. "I go to-morrow to Vencata, to work a piece of land which is the property of the Prince and Princess Sansevero. As their representative, I am vested with every legal right to apply my invention to the mine known as the 'Little Devil.' And I may add"—he put it casually—"that back of me is the full strength and protection of the United States Government." He looked straight into the small rat-like eyes nearly a foot below his own. Then with a smile he bowed to the Contessa Zoya and went in search of the Princess Sansevero, to say good-by.