"That will bring him fast enough," said the old man, alluding to the
note which had been just despatched. "The game is quite in your own
hands, as I told you from the beginning it would be. That postscript
was a capital thought."
The postscript in question, which, it may be remembered, had not
added to the pleasure the billet had given the Marchese, had been
added at the suggestion of old Lalli himself.
"I would rather not have written it," replied Bianca, peevishly. "It
looked too much like putting the screw on--I don't like it."
"Be reasonable, bambina mia, whatever you are. How, in the name of
all the Saints, do you imagine that you are to become Marchesa di
Castelmare without putting the screw on--and that pretty sharply
too? The man is as thoroughly caught as ever man was caught by a
woman; and I tell you, therefore, that the game is in your own
hands. But you don't suppose that he is burningly eager to solicit
the honour of your alliance, che diamine?"
"Don't, Quinto; don't go on in that way. I tell you I hate it all,"
returned Bianca.
"Cars mia, you are in an irrational humour this morning. Do you like
the old game better? It don't pay, bambina mia, as you have found
out; and, above all, it won't last. But I am sure you have reason to
be satisfied with your success this season in any way.
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