The Marchese raised his eyebrows expressively with the slightest shrug of his shoulders.
"You may doubt that of every modern woman!" he said—"Few are really 'fitting' for marriage nowadays. They want something different—something new!—God alone knows what they want!"
Don Aloysius sighed.
"Aye! God alone knows! And God alone will decide what to give them!"
"It must be something more 'sensational' than husband and children!" said Rivardi a trifle bitterly—"Only a primitive woman will care for these!"
The priest laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Come, come! Do not be cynical, my son! I think with you that if anything can find an entrance to a woman's soul it is love—but the woman must be capable of loving. That is the difficulty with the little millionairess Royal. She is not capable!"
He uttered the last words slowly and with emphasis.
Rivardi gave him a quick searching glance.
"You seem to know that as a certainty"—he said, "How and why do you know it?"