"It is much to be lamented," replied Schedoni.
"The woman who obtrudes herself upon a family, to dishonour it," continued the Marchesa, "deserves a punishment nearly equal to that of a state criminal, since she injures those who best support the state. She ought to suffer"——
"Not nearly, but quite equal," interrupted the Confessor, "she deserves——death!"
He paused, and there was a moment of profound silence, till he added—"for death only can obliviate the degradation she has occasioned; her death alone can restore the original splendor of the line she would have sullied."
He paused again, but the Marchesa still remaining silent, he added, "I have often marvelled that our lawgivers should have failed to perceive the justness, nay the necessity, of such punishment!"
"It is astonishing," said the Marchesa, thoughtfully, "that a regard for their own honour did not suggest it."
"Justice does not the less exist, because her laws are neglected," observed Schedoni. "A sense of what she commands lives in our breasts; and when we fail to obey that sense, it is to weakness, not to virtue, that we yield."
"Certainly," replied the Marchesa, "that truth never yet was doubted."
"Pardon me, I am not so certain as to that," said the Confessor, "when justice happens to oppose prejudice, we are apt to believe it virtuous to disobey her. For instance, though the law of justice demands the death of this girl, yet because the law of the land forbears to enforce it, you, my daughter, even you! though possessed of a man's spirit, and his clear perceptions, would think that virtue bade her live, when it was only fear!"
"Hah!" exclaimed the Marchesa, in a low voice, "What is that you mean? You shall find I have a man's courage also."