"He is always in Paris himself," said the Countess. "I mean when he is not in Vienna."
"Can you telegraph to him to use his influence in Paris, so that the Figaro shall correct the article? Newspapers never take back what they say, but it will be enough if a paragraph appears in a prominent part of the paper stating that some ill-disposed people having supposed that the person referred to in a recent letter from a Roman correspondent was Guido d'Este, the editors take the opportunity of stating positively that no reference to him was intended. Will you telegraph that?"
"But will it be of any use?" asked the Countess, who was slightly in awe of Baron Goldbirn.
"Please write the telegram yourself," Cecilia said. "Then there cannot be any mistake. The address is Kärnthner Ring, Vienna."
"You will find writing paper in my boudoir," said the Countess. "Cecilia will show you."
The young girl led the way to her mother's table in the next room, and Lamberti sat down before it, while she pulled out a sheet of paper and gave him a pen. Neither looked at the other, and Lamberti wrote slowly in a laboured round hand unlike his own, intended for the telegraph clerk to read easily.
"How shall I sign it?" he asked when he had finished.
"'Countess Fortiguerra.'"
He wrote, blotted the page, and rose. For one moment he stood close beside her.
"Shall I tell your mother?" he asked, in a low voice.