It was the marchesa who at last broke the
silence. "I cannot deny that I should like my Cesare to be so fortunate
as to win her, but I must confess she and Giovanni Sansevero make a
charming couple!"
"Dancing, yes," snapped the duchess, "but for my taste they dance too
fast!"
"She is doubtless thinking of her tub of a son, who moves with about the
grace of an elephant," whispered the Princess Malio behind her fan.
"I can imagine nothing more graceful than the picture they make at this
moment," the marchesa answered, wistfully regarding the two slim figures
whirling down the length of the room, dancing, dancing on! as though it
were the first, and not the tenth, time they had traversed the great
gallery; the elastic poise of each the same, the gold-colored gauze of
Nina's dress exactly matching the rippling waves of glorious hair only a
shade below the sleek black head of her partner.
Yet the marchesa was perhaps no more anxious than either of the others
to have Giovanni bear off the American prize. "My Cesare does not return
from England for another month," she added only half audibly, and then
she sighed.
Suddenly the old princess pounced like a lean cat upon a new thought.
"Ah, ha! There is some trouble brewing! Maria Potensi has found your
picture of dancing grace a bit too charming.
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