A shadow seemed to fall on Count de Montevesso's face for the moment. Clelia unclasped her fingers, shook her fists at the empty space, then clasped her legs again. These movements, full of sombre energy, were observed silently by the Count of Montevesso. He uttered the word "_Patienza_," which in its humility is the word of the ambitious, of the unforgiving who keep a strict account with the world; a word of indomitable hope. "You wait till you are a little older. You will have plenty of people at your feet; and then you will be able to spurn anybody you like." "You mean when I am married," said Clelia in a faraway voice and staring straight over her knees. "Yes," said the Count de Montevesso, "but you will first have to learn to be gentle." This recommendation apparently missed the ear for which it was destined. For a whole minute Clelia seemed to contemplate some sort of vision with her predatory and pathetic stare. One side of her nightgown had slipped off her shoulder. Suddenly she pushed her scattered hair back, and extending her arm towards Count Helion patted him caressingly on the cheek. When she had done patting him he asked, unmoved: "Now, what is it you want?" She was careful not to turn her face his way while she whispered: "I want that young signor that came to-day to make eyes at my aunt." "Impossible." "Why impossible? I was with them in the morning. They did nothing but look at each other. But I went for him myself." "That Englishman! You can't have an Englishman like this. I am thinking of something better for you, a marquis or a count." This was the exact truth, not a sudden idea to meet a hopeless case. "You have hardly had time to have a good look at him," added Count Helion. "I looked at him this evening with all my eyes, with all my soul. I would have sat up all night to look at him. But he got up and turned his back on me. He has no eyes for anybody but my aunt." "Did you speak together, you two?" "Yes," she said, "he sat down by me and all those witches stared as if he had been making up to a monster. Am I a monster? He too looked at me as if I had been one." "Was he rude to you?" asked the Count de Montevesso. "He was as insolent as all the people I have seen since we came to this town. His heart was black as of all the rest of them. He was gentle to me as one is gentle to an old beggar for the sake of charity. Oh, how I hated him." "Well, then," said Count de Montevesso in a harsh unsympathetic tone, "you may safely despise him." Clelia threw herself half out of bed on the neck of Count Helion, who preserved an unsympathetic rigidity though he did not actually repulse her wild and vehement caress. "Oh, dearest uncle of mine," she whispered ardently! into his ear, "he is handsome! I must have him for myself." There was a knocking at the door. Count Helion tore the bare arms from his neck and pushed the girl back into bed.