"The Galician nobles," said Ivas, "ordinarily bear the title, more or less authentic, of Count. Many of them have been rich, but since 1848 they frequently give themselves an appearance of riches. I do not believe that the young man is a dangerous rival."
"Behold her! Behold her!" cried the Dane suddenly, perceiving the brunette at the end of the street, looking more attractive to-day than yesterday. "What do I see? She is alone with the Russian! A bad sign! The Galician was evidently in the way. The plot thickens! Yesterday when there were two gallants there was room for a third; but when there is only one it is difficult for another to get a foothold."
"He is very wise in the art of loving," remarked the Tsigane.
The charming Lucie Coloni approached. She was, in reality, in the full height of her beauty, and she had had time to augment her many attractions by the toilet. Her eyes were humid without having wept, and a sweet smile played on her lips. The Russian accompanied her, appearing melancholy in contrast with her gayety. She went up to Ivas, and held out a little hand, elegantly gloved, asking with much solicitude, "Va bene?"
"Thanks, madame. No trace of yesterday's illness. The scar which remains on my temple will be for me an indelible souvenir of your goodness."
"Flatterer!" replied she, shrugging her shoulders.
The Russian affected an exaggerated politeness to show his ease of manner.
"We are not complete," said he.
"One is lacking," replied Jacob. "We shall see him no more. It is the German. He has found a cheap way of going to Pisa with a privy councillor, and he has profited by it. One does not travel every day with dignitaries, lately granted a von who knows for what secret service? This von, fresh and new, comes out of the bandbox with the perfume of a half-blown rose. But you also, madame, you have lost one of your companions."
"Yes, the count. He was obliged to leave this afternoon for Spezia."