"Time begins to tell on the Marchese; he takes too much out of
himself; always busy--no rest--a bad thing!" said one.
"The Marchese Lamberto looks knocked up with this carnival. Quite
time for him that Lent was come," said another.
"The fact is that the Marchese is growing old, and he wants more
rest. He has not a minute to himself,--too many irons in the fire at
once, said a third.
"I dare say he has been worried out of his life in getting this new
Opera put upon the stage. You'll see he'll be all right enough at
the ball to-morrow night."
"Is she in the Corso--La Lalli?"
"Altro. I should think so--and looking so lovely. What a woman she
is!"
"Whereabouts is she?"
"About twenty carriages further ahead. You'll see her presently,
when we are near the turn, sitting buried up to her waist nearly in
flowers--a regular Flora, and such a representative as the Goddess
never had before."
"Who has she got with her in her carriage?" asked the first speaker.
"I expected to have seen the Marchesino Ludovico there, but he is
with the Conte Leandro, in one of the Castelmare carriages."
"Che! catch her compromising herself in any such manner. I wonder
how much some of our friends would have given to have the place
beside her to-day? But not a bit of it: she has got the old man she
calls her father with her.
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