"Ah, but beauty sometimes points a moral in spite of itself. The very obvious moral of this is that where there 's a will there 's a way."
She looked up, making her eyes grave; then smiled again.
"We must resume our plotting. I think I have found the way by which the Conte di Sampaolo can regain his inheritance."
Anthony laughed.
"There are exactly two ways by which he can do that," he said. "One is to equip an army, and go to war with the King of Italy, and—a mere detail—conquer him. The other is to procure a wishing-cap and wish it. Which do you recommend?"
"No," said Susanna. "There is a third and simpler way."
She was tracing patterns on the ground with the point of her parasol.
"There is the way of marriage."
She completed a circle, and began to draw a star within it.
"You should go to Sampaolo, and marry your cousin. So"—her eyes on her drawing, she spoke slowly, with an effect supremely impersonal—"so you would come to your own again; and so a house divided against itself, an ancient noble house, would be reunited; and an ancient historic line, broken for a little, would be made whole."