"Why do you not say whose portrait that is?" demanded he, forgetting that he had not asked the question before.
"Whose portrait?" repeated the Confessor in a loud voice.
"Whose portrait!" said Ellena, with extreme surprise.
"Ay, how came you by it? Be quick—whose resemblance is it?"
"Why should you wish to know?" said Ellena.
"Answer my question," repeated Schedoni, with encreasing sternness.
"I cannot part with it, holy father," replied Ellena, pressing it to her bosom, "you do not wish me to part with it!"
"Is it impossible to make you answer my question!" said he, in extreme perturbation, and turning away from her, "has fear utterly confounded you!" Then, again stepping towards her, and seizing her wrist, he repeated the demand in a tone of desperation.
"Alas! he is dead! or I should not now want a protector," replied Ellena, shrinking from his grasp, and weeping.
"You trifle," said Schedoni, with a terrible look, "I once more demand an answer—whose picture?"——