"There was a lack of dancing-men," answered Antonio, pressing the offered hand to his heart; "the maestro was desired to bring a few young artists with him, and was good enough to think of me."
"And why are you not dancing?"
"I have not the happiness of being acquainted with so many beautiful young ladies as Eccellenza."
Giraldi smiled, whilst he turned over in his own mind whether Antonio could have recognised in Bertalda the veiled lady who came to see Ferdinanda. It was extremely improbable, but he must give some explanation of his intimate conversation with the pretty girl.
"Do you envy me my happiness, Antonio?" he asked.
"I do not grudge Eccellenza his happiness. Who can deserve it better?" answered Antonio, with fawning humility.
"And since you are modest, you will be happier than all the gold in the world can make me. You are young and handsome, and--you love; and that your love may be crowned with success, you have but to leave it to me and Brother Ambrosio. We are both busy on your behalf. Have a little patience only, and your probation will be ended, and you will have everything your heart can wish for--yes, more than you have dreamed of in your wildest dreams; but, above all, revenge--the most brilliant, triumphant, heart-stirring revenge--upon your enemy! I swear it to you by the Sacred Heart and the Holy Virgin!" The two Italians crossed themselves. "And now, my boy, I will talk to you in a few days. For to-day forget the cares of love, and pluck the rose of pleasure, without wounding yourself with the thorns."
He pointed towards the ball-room, again pressed Antonio's hand, and went.
The young man looked after him with a gloomy brow, as he slowly walked away. He had never for a moment doubted that the charming young girl whom he had seen talking so earnestly and familiarly to the signor, was the same whom he had met that evening in the dusk--that is to say, the same who had at one time repeatedly visited Ferdinanda; he knew her height and figure so well. She might be his mistress--well, but then what had she to do with Ferdinanda? Why had he not told him the real state of the case? Why did he not tell him the lady's name today? Why had he passed as quickly as possible to another subject--or rather had only repeated the same fine speeches with which he had so often flattered his confiding companion, although to this day not one of his promises had come true? And were these to suffice him? Was he to prolong his miserable life for this--he whom the clever signor had long ceased to trust? The signor had better beware of a person named Antonio Michele, who, when the signor had sworn by the Sacred Heart and the Holy Virgin, had also taken an oath which stood in the closest connection with that of the signor. There was the signor's lady. He would not approach her directly--Antonio Michele was not such a fool--but he would try and find out her name, which could not be very difficult; and, above all, he would not lose sight of her.
Meanwhile Giraldi had wandered farther through the over-crowded rooms, looking round him from time to time to see if he could discover Ottomar, uncertain whether he wished to do so, or whether he should wait for him, whether it would not be better to go away now and leave things to take their course. The train for Sundin started at one o'clock. It was now twelve; he had still half an hour. Half an hour! Half a minute would have been enough generally for him to decide the most weighty matters. But a man grew stupid from dealing with fools. And now that boy also must get in his way!