"Perhaps that is affirming too much," observed Schedoni.
"How, father!" said the Marchesa.
"Perhaps a possibility does remain," said he.
"Point it out to me, good father! I do not perceive it."
"Nay, my lady," replied the subtle Schedoni, correcting himself, "I am by no means assured, that such possibility does exist. My solicitude for your tranquillity, and for the honour of your house, makes me so unwilling to relinquish hope, that, perhaps, I only imagine a possibility in your favour. Let me consider.——Alas! the misfortune, severe as it is, must be endured;—there remain no means of escaping from it."
"It was cruel of you, father, to suggest a hope which you could not justify," observed the Marchesa.
"You must excuse my extreme solicitude, then," replied the Confessor. "But how is it possible for me to see a family of your ancient estimation brought into such circumstances; its honours blighted by the folly of a thoughtless boy, without feeling sorrow and indignation, and looking round for even some desperate means of delivering it from disgrace." He paused.
"Disgrace!" exclaimed the Marchesa, "father, you—you—Disgrace!—The word is a strong one, but——it is, alas! just. And shall we submit to this?—Is it possible we can submit to it?"
"There is no remedy," said Schedoni, coolly.
"Good God!" exclaimed the Marchesa, "that there should be no law to prevent, or, at least, to punish such criminal marriages!"