"
Derby's eyes blazed. "Do you mean I should try to marry her and live on
her money?"
"Why not? Since she has enough for two--enough for twenty! There is no
need to be so furious. _Per l'amore di Dio!_ You Americans have always
the ears up, listening for a sound that you can fly at!" Languorously
she leaned back among the cushions of the sofa. "It is all so
silly--your idea of life." And then she stopped and looked at him
curiously. "What _is_ your idea of life?"
"Life? One might put it in three words: One must work!"
Zoya shook her head--she did it charmingly. "No, no," she said softly;
"you are altogether wrong--though I also can put it in three words.
Life lies in this: One must love. That's all there is!"
The conversation ended there, for the Duke Scorpa and Count Masco came
up to speak to the contessa. Derby arose and was about to leave when the
duke stopped him. Masco sat down to talk with Zoya, and Scorpa spoke to
Derby in an undertone. "I hear you are going to Sicily to-morrow?"
"Yes, I leave early in the morning."
"Take my advice"--his glance was sinister--"and stay away."
Derby smiled frankly. "May I ask why?"
"Because your process will not work."
"That might be taken in two ways," Derby rejoined: "either that you
believe my patents useless, or else that some means will be taken to
prevent my trying them.
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