Nevertheless that conversation caused a deep impression; the guests talked of nothing but the compliments which Benedetta had received from the most virtuous and intelligent of queens, and her triumph was increased by it all, she became yet more beautiful and more victorious amidst the happiness she felt at being at last able to bestow herself on the spouse of her choice, that happiness which made her look so radiant.
But, on the other hand, the torture which Prada experienced now became intense.

Whilst the sovereigns continued conversing, the Queen with the ladies who came to pay her their respects, the King with the officers, diplomatists, and other important personages who approached him, Prada saw none but Benedetta--Benedetta congratulated, caressed, exalted by affection and glory.

Dario was near her, flushing with pleasure, radiant like herself.

It was for them that this ball had been given, for them that the lamps shone out, for them that the music played, for them that the most beautiful women of Rome had bared their bosoms and adorned them with precious stones.

It was for them that their Majesties had entered to the strains of the Royal March, for them that the _fete_ was becoming like an apotheosis, for them that a fondly loved queen was smiling, appearing at that betrothal _gala_ like the good fairy of the nursery tales, whose coming betokens life-long happiness.