"And you remember the story about the champagne at the Gerano ball, when he carried Arden out of the room and put him to bed?"
"Perfectly," answered the Marchesa, with a smile.
"Yes. Well, I pressed him very hard to-day, to find out what the little man's habits really are. You see he is to be of the family, and we must really find out. My dear, it is quite dreadful! He says positively that Arden never touches liqueurs, but when I drove him to it, he had to admit that he drinks all sorts of wines—Rhine wine, claret, burgundy, champagne—everything! It is no wonder that it goes to his head, poor little fellow. But I am sorry for Laura."
"After all," said Flavia, "one cannot blame him much, if he tries to be a little gay. He must suffer terribly."
"Oh, no, one cannot blame him," assented Adele.
Flavia San Giacinto was somewhat amused, knowing, as she did, that Adele had herself originated the tale about Lord Herbert. And late that evening the temptation to repeat what she had heard became too strong for her. She told it all in the strictest confidence to her dearest friend, Donna Maria Boccapaduli. But Donna Maria was a little absent-minded at the moment, her eldest boy having got a cold which threatened to turn into whooping cough, and her husband having written to her from the country, asking her to come down the next day and give her advice about some necessary repairs in the castle.
On the following afternoon—it was still during Lent—she met the Contessa dell' Armi on the steps of a church after hearing a sermon. The Contessa was very pale and looked as though she had been crying.
"Only think, my dear," began Donna Maria. "It is quite true that Lord Herbert drinks. Adele knows all about it."
"Does she?" asked the Contessa, indifferently enough. "How did she find it out?"