CHAPTER IX
One Struggle more
The Marchese reached the Palazzo Castelmare unobserved by any one,
save old Quinto Lalli, who had been for some time past watching the
door of his adopted daughter from a neighbouring corner, in order to
ascertain when he might go home to his bed without infringing the
order that had been given him.
"And what do you think of it now, papa mio?" said the Diva, when she
had very faithfully, though summarily, recounted the scene which had
just passed, to her old friend and counsellor.
"Well, I see no reason to despair of the result," said Quinto. "You
did not expect him to jump at the idea of making you Marchesa di
Castelmare, I suppose? Of course he was a little staggered; and,
probably, his own notion at this moment is, that he would rather
never see your face again, than dream of such a thing. Ma, ci vuol
pazienza! My notion is, that you will have him nibbling at the hook
again before long. That little hint about the nephew was masterly.
Depend upon it that will do its work."
"But, Quinto, I did not say a word to him that was not true--hardly
a word. I do like him better, by an hundred times, than any other
man I ever knew; and if I succeed, you see if I do not make him a
good wife; I swear I will! As for Signor Ludovico, that is all trash
and nonsense.
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