"You must know we planned this together, madame and I, just to take you by surprise.
There was no knowing when you would be persuaded to visit the contessa, and she could not rest till she had thanked you, so we arranged this meeting.

Could anything be better?
Come, conte, confess that you are charmed!" "Of course I am!" I answered with a slight touch of satire in my tone.
"Who would not be charmed in the presence of such youth and beauty! And I am also flattered--for I know what exceptional favor the Contessa Romani extends toward me in allowing me to make her acquaintance at a time which must naturally be for her a secluded season of sorrow." At these words my wife's face suddenly assumed an expression of wistful sadness and appealing gentleness.
"Ah, poor unfortunate Fabio," she sighed.

"How terrible it seems that he is not here to greet you! How gladly he would have welcomed any friend of his father's--he adored his father, poor fellow! I cannot realize that he is dead.

It was too sudden, too dreadful! I do not think I shall ever recover the shock of his loss!" And her eyes actually filled with tears; though the fact did not surprise me in the least, for many women can weep at will.

Very little practice is necessary--and we men are such fools, we never know how it is done; we take all the pretty feigned piteousness for real grief, and torture ourselves to find methods of consolation for the feminine sorrows which have no root save in vanity and selfishness.