"It is nothing to me--if you turn me out.

I am rich, as you justly observed." "You will have the more leisure to lead the life you like best," retorted the Prince; "to hang about in society, to go where you please, to make love to--" the old man stopped a moment.

His son was watching him fiercely, his hand clenched upon the table, his face as white as death.
"To whom ?" he asked with a terrible effort to be calm.
"Do you think I am afraid of you?
Do you think your father is less strong or less fierce than you?
To whom ?" cried the angry old man, his whole pent-up fury bursting out as he rose suddenly to his feet.

"To whom but to Corona d'Astrardente--to whom else should you make love ?--wasting your youth and life upon a mad passion! All Rome says it--I will say it too!" "You have said it indeed," answered Giovanni, in a very low voice.

He remained seated at the table, not moving a muscle, his face as the face of the dead.