"And now," he said, "that we are at our ease, may I inquire what the devil you mean by your insinuations about my wife?"
"Oh," replied Valdarno, affecting great indifference, "I only say what everybody says. There is no offence to the Duchessa."
"I should suppose not, indeed. Go on."
"Do you really care to hear the story?" asked the young man.
"I intend to hear it, and at once," replied Astrardente.
"You will not have to employ force to extract it from me, I can assure you," said Valdarno, settling himself in his chair, but avoiding the angry glance of the old man. "Everybody has been repeating it since the day before yesterday, when it occurred. You were at the Frangipani ball—you might have seen it all. In the first place, you must know that there exists another of those beings to whom you extend your merciful toleration—a certain Giovanni Saracinesca—you may have noticed him?"
"What of him?" asked Astrardente, fiercely.
"Among other things, he is the man who wounded Del Ferice, as I daresay you have heard. Among other things concerning him, he has done himself the honour of falling desperately, madly in love with the Duchessa d'Astrardente, who—"
"What?" cried the old man in a cracked voice, as Valdarno paused.
"Who does you the honour of ignoring his existence on most occasions, but who was so unfortunate as to recall him to her memory on the night of the Frangipani ball. We were all sitting in a circle round the Duchessa's chair that night, when the conversation chanced to turn upon this same Giovanni Saracinesca, a fire-eating fellow with a bad temper. He had been away for some days; indeed he was last seen at the Apollo in your box, when they gave 'Norma'—"