"Only this, my precious child. I was set thinking of the mistake at
Milan by what you said of these two men, the uncle and nephew. Has
it not come into your clever head, mia bella, that we might find
here the means of avoiding a repetition of that error?"
"Ah--h! Now I see what you are at. The uncle--hum--m--m," said
Bianca, meditatively; and then shaking her head with closely shut
lips.
"And why not the uncle, bambina mia? I am sure the few words you
have said about him are sufficient to point out that an alliance
with the Marchese di Castelmare would be an advantageous one for any
lady in the land," said old Quinto, with a demure air, that
concealed under it just the least flavour in the world of quiet
irony.
"I won't deny, papa mio, that, being humble as becomes my station,"
replied Bianca, in the same tone, "I should be perfectly contented
with the style and title of Marchesa di Castelmare. But what reason
have we for thinking that there would be any less difficulty in
becoming such than in becoming Duchessa di Lodi? That, between
ourselves, is the question."
"And what difficulty lay in the way of becoming Duchessa di Lodi?
Certainly none that arose from the Signor Duca. Governors and
fathers, and uncles and aunts, and police commissaries, and the
devil knows what, all interfered to keep two young hearts asunder,
and spoil the game.
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