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"Do you know the Duchessa?" asked Flora Desimone

"Yes" It was three o'clock the same afternoon The duke sat with his wife

under the vine-clad trattoria on the quay Between his knees he held his

Panama hat, which was filled with ripe hazelnuts He cracked the white teeth and filliped the broken shells into

the lake, where a frantic little fish called agoni darted in and about

the slowly sinking particles "Why?" The duke was not any grayer than he

had been four or five months previous, but the characteristic expression

of his features had undergone a change He looked less Jovian than

Job-like

"I want you to get an invitation to her ball at the Villa Rosa to-night"

"We haven't been here twenty-four hours!" in mild protest

"What has that to do with it? It doesn't make any difference"

"I suppose not" He cracked and ate a nut "Where is he?"

"He has gone to Milan He left hurriedly He's a fool," i and discretion is another Oh,

well; his presence here was not absolutely essential Presently he will

ood boy" The next nut ithered, and

he tossed it aside "Is her voice really gone?"