He lighted a cigarette, and stood there till he had consumed

it.

"Heigh-ho!" he sighed at last, and turned back towards the

villa. And "Yes," he concluded, "I must certainly keep an eye

on our friend Peter Marchdale."

"But I 'm doubting it's a bit too late--troppo tardo," he

said to Marietta, whom he found bringing hot water to his

dressing-room.

"It is not very late," said Marietta. "Only half-past ten."

"She is a woman--therefore to be loved; she is a duchess

--therefore to be lost," he explained, in his native tongue.

"Cosa." questioned Marietta, in hers.




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