'Is not our signorina a pure artist, accomplishing easily three octaves?
aha! Three!' and he rubbed his hands.

'But, three good octaves!' he addressed Vittoria seriously and admonishingly.

'It is a fortune-millions! It is precisely the very grandest heritage! It is an army!' 'I trust that it may be!' said Vittoria, with so deep and earnest a ring of her voice that the count himself, malicious as his ejaculations had been, was astonished.

At that instant Laura cried from the window: 'These horses will go mad.' The exclamation had the desired effect.
'Eh ?--pardon me, signorina,' said the count, moving half-way to the window, and then askant for his hat.

The clatter of the horses' hoofs sent him dashing through the doorway, at which place his daughter stood with his hat extended.