halted at the strange spectacle—clearly drawn against the luminous depths of space—of Mochales and her husband rigidly facing each other.
"I must admit," Orsi said in an exasperated voice, "that I don't understand."
Lavinia saw that he was holding something in a half-extended hand. Moving closer, she identified the object as the necklace he had given Gheta.
"What is it that you don't understand, Cesare?" she asked.
"Some infernal joke or foolishness!"
"It is no joke, signore," Mochales responded; "and it is better,—perhaps, for your wife to leave us."
Orsi turned to Lavinia.
"He gives me back this necklace of Gheta's," he explained; "he says that he has every right. It appears that Gheta is going to marry him, and he already objects to presents from her brother-in-law."
"But what stuff!" Lavinia pronounced.
A swift surprise overtook her at Cesare's announcement—Gheta and Mochales to marry! She was certain that the arrangement had not existed that morning. A fleet inchoate sorrow numbed her heart and fled.
"Orsi has been only truthful enough to suit his own purpose," Mochales stated, "Signora, please" He indicated the descent from the belvedere.
She moved closer to him, smiling appealingly.
"What is it all about?" she queried.
"Forgive me; it is impossible to answer."
"Cesare?" She addressed her husband.
"Why, this—this donkey hints that there was some-
