Chevalier Mancini, who wore in his button-hole the decoration of the Legion d'Honneur, looked up--he was a thin man with keen eyes and a shrewd face which, though at a first glance appeared stern, could at the least provocation break up into a thousand little wrinkles of laughter.
"There is undoubtedly something entrainant about the idea," he observed, in his methodical way. "I have always fancied that marriage as we arrange it is a great mistake."
"And that is why you have never tried it?" queried Ferrari, looking amused.
"Certissimamente!" and the chevalier's grim countenance began to work with satirical humor. "I have resolved that I will never be bound over by the law to kiss only one woman. As matters stand, I can kiss them all if I like."
A shout of merriment and cries of "Oh! oh!" greeted this remark, which Ferrari, however, did not seem inclined to take in good part.
"All?" he said, with a dubious air. "You mean all except the married ones?"
The chevalier put on his spectacles, and surveyed him with a sort of comic severity.
"When I said ALL, I meant all," he returned--"the married ones in particular. They, poor things, need such attentions--and often invite them--why not? Their husbands have most likely ceased to be amorous after the first months of marriage."
I burst out laughing. "You are right, Mancini," I said; "and even if the husbands are fools enough to continue their gallantries they deserve to be duped--and they generally are! Come, amico.'" I added, turning to Ferrari, "those are your own sentiments--you have often declared them to me."
He smiled uncomfortably, and his brows contracted. I could easily perceive that he was annoyed. To change the tone of the conversation I gave a signal for the music to recommence, and instantly the melody of a slow, voluptuous Hungarian waltz-measure floated through the room. The dinner was now fairly on its way; the appetites of my guests were stimulated and tempted by the choicest and most savory viands, prepared with all the taste and intelligence a first rate chef can bestow on his work, and good wine flowed freely.
Vincenzo obediently following my instructions, stood behind my chair, and seldom moved except to refill Ferrari's glass, and occasionally to proffer some fresh vintage to the Duke di Marina. He, however, was an abstemious and careful man, and followed the good example shown by the wisest Italians, who never mix their wines. He remained faithful to the first beverage he had selected--a specially fine Chianti, of which he partook freely without its causing the slightest flush to appear on his pale aristocratic features. Its warm and mellow flavor did but brighten his eyes and loosen his tongue, inasmuch that he became almost as elegant a talker as the Marchese Gualdro. This latter, who scarce had a scudo to call his own, and who dined sumptuously every day at other people's expense for the sake of the pleasure his company afforded, was by this time entertaining every one near him by the most sparkling stories and witty pleasantries.