"Wall, Pietrino—wall, Beppo," said Ruspoli, shaking hands with Orsetti and Malatesta, and nodding to Orazio, out of whose sails he took the wind by force of stolid indifference (Baldassare he ignored, or mistook him for a waiter, if he saw him at all), "you are all discussing the news, of course. Lucca's lively to-day. You'll all do in time, even to steeple-chases. We must run one down on the low grounds in the spring. Dick, my English groom, is always plaguing me about it."
Then Prince Ruspoli pulled himself together with a jerk, as a man does stiff from the saddle, laid his hunting-whip upon a table, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and looked round.
"What news have you heard?" asked Beppo Malatesta. "There's such a lot."
"Wall, the news I have heard is, that Count Nobili is engaged to marry the Marchesa Guinigi's little niece. Dear little thing, they say—like an English 'mees'—fair, with red hair."
"Is that your style of beauty?" lisped Orazio, looking hard at him.
But Ruspoli did not notice him.
"But that's not half," cried Malatesta. "You are an innocent, Ruspoli.
Let me baptize you with scandal."
"Don't, don't, I hate scandal," said Ruspoli, taking one of his hands out of his pocket for a moment, and holding it up in remonstrance. "There is nothing but scandal in these small Italian towns. Take to hunting, that's the cure. Nobili is to marry the little girl, that's certain. He's to pay off all the marchesa's debts, that's certain too. He's rich, she's poor. He wants blood, she has got it."
"I do not believe in this marriage," said Orazio, measuring Prince Ruspoli as he stood erect, his slits of eyes without a shadow of expression. "You remember the ballroom, prince? And the Boccarini family grouped—and Nobili crying in a corner? Nobili will marry the Boccarini. She is a stunner."
After Orazio had ventured this observation about Nera Boccarini, Prince Ruspoli brought his small, steely eyes to bear upon him with a fixed stare.
Orazio affected total unconsciousness, but he quailed inwardly. The others silently watched Ruspoli. He took up his hunting-whip and whirled it in the air dangerously near Orazio's head, eying him all the while as a dog eyes a rat he means to crunch between his teeth.