“Go away and mind your own affairs,” said Signor Di Bello, pushing the banker aside. At the same moment the assistants appeared and would have thrown the second intruder into the sacristy with the first, but for the priest. He made a sign for them to desist; then he ordered them to drive back and out of the church the women, girls, and men who were crowding before the altar. When at last the doors were closed and the hubbub without had become a faint murmur, the priest said: “You must wait for a week, Signor Di Bello. Then, if I find that all is well, you may come back and I will marry you.” “Bravo!” cried the banker. “Silence! Come to me Tuesday with the man you say is this woman’s husband.” “_Si_, padre,” said the banker. “I shall be here.” Juno took the happening more seriously than Signor Di Bello did. “What matters it if two crazy donkeys do wag their tongues?” he said, on the way down the aisle to the door. “You are mine, and nothing else matters. In a week we shall laugh at these meddlers--the priest as well.” But Juno knew that the disclosures which the signore did not believe meant the collapse of her reckless scheme. Plainly the banker and Bertino had met, and the history of the bust as well as the secret of their marriage had come out. And they would meet again before Bertino should receive her letter warning him to fly from the imaginary danger. In a few hours her husband would know that his uncle not only lived, but had sought to appropriate his wife. What firebrands of _vendetta_! Now it was she who should have to fly, else feel the temper of Bertino’s knife. What a blockhead she had been to put off so long the writing of that letter! Had she sent it two or three days ago, he would be far from New York now, perhaps out of America. When the doors opened for them to pass into the street they found the church steps thronged with the populace of Mulberry. Word of the doings at the altar had gone abroad, and the appearance of the brideless groom and the groomless bride was the signal for a shower of jeers and derisive greetings. But the signore mustered a bold front and proved himself worthy of his royal resemblance. “We shall go to Casa Di Bello,” he said as they entered the carriage, “and have the wedding feast just as though that noodle of a priest had not refused to marry you. And why not? It will only be observing the event a week in advance; for next Sunday the priest will see that these meddlers have made a fool of him, and he will be glad to marry you to Signor Di Bello. Now for the diversions of the feast of the marriage.”