"She has an impossible character," said Egidio petulantly, like a child taken to task. Ferrati seemed always to have this mysterious power of domination over him, the result, perhaps, of the man's clear-eyed honesty.
"She is pretentious, rebellious against my authority; she is ungrateful for all I have done for her, she lies; I tell you she is impossible."
"Let us talk this over," said Ferrati glad to have at last something definite to take hold of. "I will take you up point by point, and we will find out how much foundation there is for what you say. I believe it is all a misunderstanding."
"It is not, I can't be deceived about my own wife, I know her better than she knows herself."
"There is where you are wrong. Your wife is not perfect—no human being is, but you wilfully blind yourself to her good qualities and exaggerate her defects. Now take this, you call her pretentious," he flung his arms round Valentini's shoulders and forced him to pace slowly up and down the room—"I do not think her so. She is a beautiful woman, she is clever—I have read her publications and they are excellent,—she may have a little weakness for titled friends."
"She fills my house with knaves and fools. She continues to receive people I have forbidden her to see, I won't have it! She—"
"Sh! let me continue, when I have finished you shall say what you have to say. I repeat, you call her pretentious, my opinion and that of everyone who knows her is that she is modest and unassuming. As for her friends—" he wheeled suddenly looking Egidio in the eyes, "what right have you to object to them? Do you suppose your escapades, the way you spend your evenings, to be unknown? This woman, the original of this portrait, what right had you, knowing her for what she is, standing to her in the relation in which you did—what right had you, I say, to bring her here, into the house where your wife lives?"
His voice was like a trumpet-call, and Egidio's eyes fell.
"You say that she rebels against your authority—but if that authority is a tyranny? She is not a child, she is a responsible woman and the day has gone by when a husband's word was law. In virtue of what superior powers do you arrogate to yourself the right to guide and control your wife as though she were a minor child? But if obedience is what you require you must be moderate in your commands, lighten your yoke, fit it to the neck that is to wear it. I don't wonder that Ragna finds your exercise of authority unreasonable. Now for the ingratitude—in what way is she ungrateful? And after all, my dear friend, why should she be grateful, what more have you done for her than she has done for you?" Egidio's jaw dropped. "Your marriage was a contract entered into on both sides with full knowledge of the circumstances. You knew her condition, you knew, for she told you, that she did not love you—you offered her your name and protection in exchange for the advantage of her society. Well, has she not fulfilled her part of the contract? Has she not been a model wife and mother, faithful, true to you in word and deed? Has she not given you a son of whom any man might be proud? What more could you expect of her? Granted that Mimmo—that his presence in the house must be hard at times, but he is a dear affectionate child, whom no one could help loving—and you knew beforehand what you were undertaking. Remember, the child was never foisted on you, as seems sometimes to be your conviction. Here are three of your points disposed of—frankly I cannot see that you have a leg to stand on!"
Egidio opened his mouth to protest but closed it again; indeed what could he say without letting his friend see that it was the loss of Ragna's expected fortune, in hopes of which he had married her, that lay at the root of his grievance. He had so often proclaimed his disinterestedness that he could not very well abandon the position; and more than this he feared Ferrati's condemnation and wished to keep his good opinion. Anything he could say would but put himself in a most unflattering light. Seeing he had no answer to make, Ferrati continued.