“Prince Ercole, surely?”
“No, he despises me. Listen. I told you once before what Gilio said ... that there were no family-jewels, that they were all sold: you remember, don’t you? Well, there are family-jewels. I gathered that from something the Countess di Rosavilla said. There are family-jewels. But Prince Ercole keeps them in the Banco di Roma. They despise me; and I am not thought good enough to wear them. And to me they pretend that there are none left. And the worst of it is that all their friends, all their set know that the jewels are there, in the bank, and they all say that Prince Ercole is right. My money is good enough for them, but I am not good enough for their old jewels, the jewels of their grandmother!”
“That’s a shame!” said Cornélie.
“It’s the truth!” sobbed Urania. “Oh, do make it up, stay a little longer, for my sake!...”
“Judge for yourself, Urania: we really can’t.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she admitted, with a sigh.
“It’s all my fault.”
“No, no, Gilio is sometimes so impetuous....”
“But his impetuousness, his anger, his jealousy are my fault. I am sorry about it, Urania, because of you. Forgive me. Come and look me up in Rome when you go back. Don’t forget me; and write, won’t you?... Now I must go and pack my trunk. What time is the train?”
“Ten twenty-five,” said Duco. “We shall go together.”