Why should not I ?" The Duchessa did not smile.

She was used to hearing her aged husband speak of himself as young.

It was a harmless fancy.
"I think it is quite natural," she said.
"What I cannot understand," said Astrardente, muffling his thin throat more closely against the keen bright _tramontana_ wind, "is that such old fellows as Saracinesca should still want to play a part in the world." Saracinesca was younger than Astrardente, and his iron constitution bade fair to outlast another generation, in spite of his white hair.
"You do not seem to be in a good humour with Saracinesca to-day," remarked Corona, by way of answer.
"Why do you defend him ?" asked her husband, in a new fit of irritation.
"He jars on my nerves, the sour old creature!" "I fancy all Rome will go to the Frangipani ball," began Corona again, without heeding the old man's petulance.
"You seem to be interested in it," returned Astrardente.
Corona was silent; it was her only weapon when he became petulant.

He hated silence, and generally returned to the conversation with more suavity.

Perhaps, in his great experience, he really appreciated his wife's wonderful patience with his moods, and it is certain that he was exceedingly fond of her.
"You must have a new gown, my dear," he said presently, in a conciliatory tone.
His wife passed for the best-dressed woman in Rome, as she was undeniably the most remarkable in many other ways.