"I do not wish my happiness to cost you a moment of worry, and it will not. I can predict hour by hour everything that will take place on the 14th, and you will see if your friend is not a prophet. You know what a lucky line I have here," he added, showing the palm of his hand, "and you know what I have read in your own pretty hand." It was one of his tricks, and at the same time one of his own superstitions, to play the rôle of a parlor wizard and chiromancer, and he continued with that tone of certitude that imparts firmness to the irresolute:-- "You will have a magnificent passage to Genoa. You will find me you know where with Dom Fortunato Lagumina, for the old _abbé_ is eager to act as chaplain in this _matrimonio segreto_. You will return to Cannes without any one in the world suspecting that _Mme. la Marquise Bonnacorsi_ has become _Mme. la Vicomtesse de Corancez_, excepting the Vicomte, who will find some way of making our little _combinazione_ acceptable to the good Alvise. Until then you will write to me at Genoa, _poste restante_, and I to you, in care of our dear Miss Florence." "Whose name is also Miss Prudence," said the young girl, "and she thinks you are talking too long for conspirators. Beware of pickpockets," she added in English. This was the signal agreed upon to warn them of the approach of some acquaintance. "Bah, that pickpocket is not dangerous," said Corancez, following the direction of Miss Marsh's fan, and recognizing the person who had attracted her attention. "It is Pierre Hautefeuille, my old friend. He doesn't even notice us. Marquise, do you wish to see a lover desperate at not finding his loved one? And to think that I should be like him," he added, in a lower tone, "if you were not here to intoxicate me with your beauty." Then, raising his voice, "Watch him sit down on that lounge in the corner, unconscious of the three pairs of eyes that are observing him. A ruined gambler might blow out his brains beside him and he would not turn his head. He would not even hear."