The brougham stopped, and a gentleman put his head out of the window and
called--'Andrea!'
It was the Duke of Grimiti, a near relative of his.
'Going to call on the Scerni?' asked the duke with a significant smile.
'Yes,' answered Andrea, 'to inquire after her--she is ill, you know.'
'Yes, I know--I have just come from there. She is better.'
'Does she receive?'
'Me--no. But she may perhaps receive you.' And Grimiti laughed
maliciously through the smoke of his cigarette.
'I don't understand,' Andrea answered coldly.
'Bah!' said the duke. 'Report says you are high in favour. I heard it
last night at the Pallavicinis', from a lady, a great friend of
yours--give you my word!'
Andrea turned on his heel with a gesture of impatience.
'_Bonne chance_!' cried the duke.
Andrea entered the portico. In reality he was delighted and flattered
that such a report should be circulated already. Grimiti's words had
suddenly revived his courage like a draught of some cordial. As he
mounted the steps, his hopes rose high. He waited for a moment at the
door to allow his excitement to calm down a little. Then he rang.
The servant recognised him and said at once: 'If the Signor Conte will
have the kindness to wait a moment I will go and inform _Mademoiselle_.'
He nodded assent, and began pacing the vast ante-chamber, which seemed
to echo the violent beating of his heart.
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