The dome of St. Peter's looked like a
globe of gold set in the center of the celebrated frame of the Pincio
trees, but as the sun went down it grew chilly, and the Sansevero landau
rolled briskly up the Corso. At Nina's suggestion they stopped at a tea
shop.
No sooner were they seated at a little table when they were joined by
the Duchess Astarte. The duchess had most graceful manners, but she
talked to the princess across Nina, and about her, as though she were an
article of furniture, or at least a small child who could not understand
what was said. She spoke frankly of Nina's suitors. Scorpa's was an
excellent title, but Scorpa was a widower and no longer young. Then she
begged the princess to consider her nephew, the young Prince Allegro.
It would be a brilliant match, for he was one of the mediatized princes
and ranked with royalty. But his properties took such an immense amount
of money to keep up that an added fortune would be a great relief to the
whole family. Her consummate naturalness did away with much of the
bluntness of her speech; but even so, this was too much for Nina's
calmness.
"But, Duchessa," she broke in, "have the Prince Allegro and I nothing to
do with the arranging of our own future?"
The duchess observed her in as much astonishment as though a baby of six
months had broken into the conversation.
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