The day Conran had really gone the length of offering to make an unknown Italian his wife, he went, for the first time in the evening, to Da Guari's house. The servant showed him in unannounced to a brightly-lighted chamber, reeking with wine and smoke, where a dozen men were playing trente et quarante at an amateur bank, and two or three others were gathered round what he had believed his own fair and pure Campagna flower. He understood it all; he turned away with a curse upon him. He wanted love and innocence; adventuresses he could have by the score, and he was sick to death of them. From that hour he never saw her again till he met her at the Casa di Fiori. The next day I went to Conran while he was breakfasting, and unburdened my mind to him. He looked ill and haggard, but he listened to me very kindly, though he spoke of the people at the Casa di Fiori in a hard, brief, curious manner. "Plenty have been taken in like you, Gus," he said "I was, years ago, in my youth, when I joined the Army. There are scores of such women, as I told you, down the line of the Pacific, and about here; anywhere, in fact, where the army and navy give them fresh pigeons to be gulled. They take titles that sound grand in boys' ears, and fascinate them till they've won all their money, and then--send them to the dogs. Your Marchioness St. Julian's real name is Sarah Briggs." I gave an involuntary shriek. Sarah Briggs finished me. It was the death-stroke, that could never be got over. "She was a ballet-girl in London," continued Conran; "then, when she was sixteen, married that Fitzhervey, _alias_ Briggs, _alias_ Smith, _alias_ what you please, and set up in her present more lucrative employment with her three or four confederates. Saint-Jeu was expelled from Paris for keeping a hell in the Chaussée d'Antin, Fitzhervey was a leg at Newmarket, Orangia Magnolia a lawyer's clerk, who was had up for forgery, Guatamara is--by another name--a scoundrel of Rome. There is the history of your Maltese Peerage, Gussy. Well, you'll be wider awake next time. Wait, there is somebody at my door. Stay here a moment, I'll come back to you." Accordingly, I stayed in his bedroom, where I had found him writing, and he went into his sitting-room, of which, from the diminutiveness of his domicile, I commanded a full view, sit where I would. What was my astonishment to see Lucrezia! I went to his bedroom door; it was locked from the outside, so I perforce remained where I was, to, _nolens volens_, witness the finish of last night's interview. Stern to the last extent and deadly pale, Conran stood, too surprised to speak, and most probably at a loss for words. Lucrezia came up to him nevertheless with the abandonment of youth and southern blood. "Victor! Victor! let me speak to you. You shall listen; you shall not judge me unheard." "Signorina, I have judged you by only too ample evidence." He had recovered himself now, and was as cool as needs be.