"Thank you," said Giovanni, and pressed his father's hand.
"And give her my love, and say I will call to-morrow at two o'clock," added the Prince, now perfectly serene.
With the diamonds under his arm, Giovanni went out. The sky was clear and frosty, and the stars shone brightly, high up between the tall houses of the narrow street. Giovanni had not ordered a carriage, and seeing how fine the night was, he decided to walk to his destination. It was not eight o'clock, and Corona would have scarcely finished dinner at that hour. He walked slowly. As he emerged into the Piazza di Venezia some one overtook him.
"Good evening, Prince." Giovanni turned, and recognised Anastase Gouache, the Zouave.
"Ah, Gouache—how are you?"
"I am going to pay you a visit," answered the Frenchman.
"I am very sorry—I have just left home," returned Giovanni, in some surprise.
"Not at your house," continued Anastase. "My company is ordered to the mountains. We leave to-morrow morning for Subiaco, and some of us are to be quartered at Saracinesca."
"I hope you will be among the number," said Giovanni. "I shall probably be married next week, and the Duchessa wishes to go at once to the mountains. We shall be delighted to see you."
"Thank you very much. I will not fail to do myself the honour. My homage to Madame la Duchesse. I must turn here. Good night."