anger and confusion, "the victory is yours. But pardon me, you have spoken lightly of this young girl — will anything tempt you to yield your claim?
"Ah, do not think so ill of my gallantry; and," resumed Zanoni, with a stern meaning in his voice, "forget not the forfeit your own lips have named."
The Prince knit his brow, but constrained the haughty answer that was his first impulse.
"Enough!" he said, forcing a smile; "I yield. Let me prove that I do not yield ungraciously: will you favour me with your presence at a little feast I propose to give in honour," — he added, with a sardonic mockery, — "of the elevation of my kinsman, the late Cardinal, of pious memory, to the true seat of St Peter?"
"It is, indeed, a happiness to hear one command of yours I can obey."
Zanoni then turned the conversation, talked lightly and gaily, and soon afterwards departed.
"Villain!" then exclaimed the Prince, grasping Mascari by the collar, "you betrayed me!"
"I assure your Excellency that the dice were properly arranged; he should have thrown twelve; but he is the Devil, and that's the end of it."
"There is no time to be lost," said the Prince, quitting his hold of his parasite, who quiety resettled his cravat.
"My blood is up — I will win this girl, if I die for it! What noise is that?"
"It is but the sword of your illustrious ancestor that has fallen from the table."
