"Only a supposition? And how about the rest? How about the cowardly action she proposed to you?"
Franco, who had answered Pasotti with such violence, now answered his wife weakly.
"Yes, yes, yes! But after all——"
It was her turn to be violent now. The idea that his grandmother should dare propose that they forsake the uncle drove her nearly out of her mind. "You will at least acknowledge this," she cried, "that she deserves no mercy? My God! And to think that will still exists!"
"Oh!" Franco exclaimed. "Are we to begin over again?"
"Let us begin over again! Have you any right to demand that I shall neither think nor feel save in such a way as is pleasing to you? Did I obey you I should be cowardly, I should deserve to become a slave. And I will be neither cowardly nor a slave!"
The rebel he had suspected, even felt at times lurking behind the loving woman, the creature possessed of an intellect intensely proud, and stronger than love, whom he had never succeeded in conquering completely, now stood before him, quivering in the consciousness of her rebellion.
"Well, well!" said Franco, as if speaking to himself, "so you would be cowardly, would be a slave? Do you at least reflect that I am going away to-morrow?"
"Do not go! Stay here! Carry out your grandfather's wishes. Remember what you told me concerning the origin of the Maironi wealth. Give it all back to the Ospitale Maggiore. See that justice is done!"
"No," Franco retorted. "These are idle dreams. The end does not justify the means. The real end with you is to strike my grandmother. This talk of the Ospitale is simply a means of justifying the blow. No, I will never make use of that will. I declared as much to Pasotti, in such strong language that should I ever change, I should deserve to be spit upon. I shall certainly leave to-morrow."