The best caterers, florists, and musicians were engaged. The best people in Florence were invited. Mrs. Howard sent out three hundred invitations, and was induced to send out one more at almost the eleventh hour, for Prince Gonzaga had suddenly returned to Florence, and the Fraynes insisted that it would be simple courtesy to send him a card to the marriage that was to take place in his own villa. Augustus Frayne had met the nobleman at Miss Beatrice Consani’s the day before the wedding, and was favorably impressed by him. “Handsome, in a dark Italian fashion, but after that almost American,” he told his sisters. “In fact, his mother was an American, and he was born in New York--told me so himself. Some sort of a romance about the thing. Father was poor, doffed the title of prince, and went to America and worked for his living. Died, and the son amassed a fortune and returned to Italy, took up the title that had descended to him, bought this beautiful villa, then went back to America to bring his mother, but she had died in his absence. ’Pon honor, I was sorry for the macaroni! He seemed down in the mouth and cut up over losing her. Told me he didn’t care for weddings much, but was coming to ours because it was to be at his old ancestral home. Didn’t I say it was quite a romance? I would give it to Lorraine for that novel that hangs fire so, but I won’t, because he cut me out with Fair.” “Return good for evil,” suggested Nettie Frayne. “I shan’t do it! I can’t forgive the fellow yet,” answered Augustus gayly. “I mean to set my cap at the prince,” cried Clara Frayne, and Augustus grinned. “I think several caps are set at him--Bee Consani’s among the number--but he doesn’t strike me as being a marrying man--not much!” “Wait till he sees me!” cried Nettie, rolling up her blue eyes, with pretended egotism, and just then Fair came down the garden path toward them, lovely in a soft white dress and garden hat, with a warm color on her round cheeks and a bright light streaming from her splendid eyes. She had just parted from her lover, and the love light on her face was dazzling. “Whew! your eyes are so bright, Miss Howard, it is like looking at the sun!” Augustus Frayne exclaimed, pretending to shield his gray orbs with his hands. She made him a merry bow of acknowledgment, then sat down by Nettie on the broad garden seat. “What were you all laughing about?” she inquired, putting her arm around Nettie’s waist. “It is those silly girls going out of their senses because Prince Gonzaga is coming to your wedding to-morrow,” returned the young man. “Yes, Fair, only think, you’re going to have the honor of the prince’s company at your wedding,” cried Clara vivaciously; and the beautiful bride-elect thought wonderingly: