"Well, Nobili, you gave us a splendid entertainment for the festival," said Franchi. "Per Dio! there were no women to trouble us."
"No women!" exclaimed Civilla—"that was the only fault. Divine woman!—Otherwise it was superb. Who has been ill-treating you, Franchi, to make you so savage?"
Franchi put up his eye-glass and stared at him.
"When there is good wine, I prefer to drink it without women. They distract me."
"Never saw such a reception in Lucca," said Count Malatesta; "never drank such wine. Go on, caro mio, go on, and prosper. We will all support you, but we cannot imitate you."
Nobili, passing on quickly, nearly ran over Cavaliere Trenta. He was in the act of making a profound obeisance, as he handed an ice to one of his contemporaries.
"Ah, youth! youth!" exclaimed poor Trenta, softly, with difficulty recovering his equilibrium by the help of his stick.—"Never mind, Count Nobili, don't apologize; I can bear any thing from a young man who celebrates the festival of the Holy Countenance with such magnificence. Per Bacco! you are the best Lucchese in Lucca. I have seen nothing like it since the duke left. My son, it was worthy of the palace you inhabit."
Ah! could the marchesa have heard this, she would never have spoken to
Trenta again!
"You gratify me exceedingly, cavaliere," replied Nobili, really pleased at the old man's praise. "I desire, as far as I can, to become Lucchese at heart. Why should not the festivals of New Italy exceed those of the old days? At least, I shall do my best that it be so."
"Eh? eh?" replied Trenta, rubbing his nose with a doubtful expression; "difficult—very difficult. In the old days, my young friend, society was a system. Each sovereign was the centre of a permanent court circle. There were many sovereigns and many circles—many purses, too, to pay the expenses of each circle. Now it is all hap-hazard; no money, no court, no king."