"Your goodness is beyond my thanks, or my desert," said Schedoni, and he was again silent.
The Marchesa wished him to lead her back to the point, from which she herself had deviated, and he seemed determined, that she should lead him thither. She mused, and hesitated. Her mind was not yet familiar with atrocious guilt; and the crime which Schedoni had suggested, somewhat alarmed her. She feared to think, and still more to name it; yet, so acutely susceptible was her pride, so stern her indignation, and so profound her desire of vengeance, that her mind was tossed as on a tempestuous ocean, and these terrible feelings threatened to overwhelm all the residue of humanity in her heart. Schedoni observed all its progressive movements, and, like a gaunt tyger, lurked in silence, ready to spring forward at the moment of opportunity.
"It is your advice, then, father," resumed the Marchesa, after a long pause,—"it is your opinion—that Ellena."——She hesitated, desirous that Schedoni should anticipate her meaning; but he chose to spare his own delicacy rather than that of the Marchesa.
"You think, then, that this insidious girl deserves"——She paused again, but the Confessor, still silent, seemed to wait with submission for what the Marchesa should deliver.
"I repeat, father, that it is your opinion this girl deserves severe punishment."——
"Undoubtedly," replied Schedoni, "Is it not also your own?"
"That not any punishment can be too severe?" continued the Marchesa. "That justice, equally with necessity, demands——her life? Is not this your opinion too?"
"O! pardon me," said Schedoni, "I may have erred; that only was my opinion; and when I formed it, I was probably too much under the influence of zeal to be just. When the heart is warm, how is it possible that the judgment can be cool."
"It is not then, your opinion, holy father," said the Marchesa with displeasure.
"I do not absolutely say that," replied the Confessor.—"But I leave it to your better judgment to decide upon its justness."