Giovanni did not believe that, if the papers were genuine, and if they had to search for the man mentioned in them, they could return in less than a fortnight. "Why not send a detective--a _sbirro_?" suggested Corona. "He could not accomplish anything," replied the Prince. "He would be at a great disadvantage there; we must go ourselves." "Both?" asked Corona, regretfully, gazing at Giovanni's face. "It is my business," replied the latter. "I can hardly ask my father to go alone." "Absurd!" exclaimed the old Prince, resenting the idea that he needed any help to accomplish his mission. "Do you think I need some one to take care of me, like a baby in arms? I will go alone; you shall not come even if you wish it. Absurd, to talk of my needing anybody with me! I will show you what your father can do when his blood is up." Protestations were useless after that. The old man grew angry at the opposition, and, regardless of all propriety, seized his hat and left the room, growling that he was as good as anybody, and a great deal better. Corona and Giovanni looked at each other when he was gone, and smiled. "I believe my father is the best man alive," said Giovanni. "He would go in a moment if I would let him. I will go after him and bring him back--I suppose I ought." "I suppose so," answered Corona; but as they stood side by side, she passed her hand under his arm affectionately, and looked into his eyes. It was a very tender look, very loving and gentle--such a look as none but Giovanni had ever seen upon her face. He put his arm about her waist and drew her to him, and kissed her dark cheek. "I cannot bear to go away and leave you, even for a day," he said, pressing her to his side. "Why should you?" she murmured, looking up to him. "Why should he go, after all? This has been such a silly affair. I wonder if that woman thought that anything could ever come between you and me? That was what made me think she was really mad." "And an excellent reason," he answered. "Anybody must be insane who dreams of parting us two. It seems as though a year ago I had not loved you at all." "I am so glad," said Corona. "Do you remember, last summer, on the tower at Saracinesca, I told you that you did not know what love was?" "It was true, Corona--I did not know. But I thought I did. I never imagined what the happiness of love was, nor how great it was, nor how it could enter into every thought." "Into every thought? Into your great thoughts too?" "If any thoughts of mine are great, they are so because you are the mainspring of them," he answered. "Will it always be so?" she asked. "You will be a very great man some day, Giovanni; will you always feel that I am something to you?" "Always--more than anything to me, more than all of me together."