“Leonardo Gilardoni, I acknowledge no claim you may choose to make upon me, but I wish to be free from any annoyance you may possibly, from spite, think fit to bring upon me. I have received offers of marriage from a nobleman of the highest rank, and of immense wealth. It is my purpose to accept these offers.”
“While you are the wife of another?” exclaimed Gilardoni.
“Prove your words,” she disdainfully replied. “But that you cannot do, be they true or false. I have not come here to bandy words with you as to my real position. I am well aware that, although your accusations would be totally without foundation, yet, if breathed to his highness, they would prejudice him against me. Therefore, I wish to silence you. If you refuse to accede to my proposition, it does not signify your using it as an additional proof of your base calumnies, for you will not be able to show that I ever made it.”
“Go on. Your proposition?”
“If you will agree to sign a paper, acknowledging that there is not the slightest foundation for your assertion that I have been married before—to you—and will further agree that on signing this paper you will depart for America, and promise never to return, I will settle ten thousand pounds on you. Nay, do not speak. I trust to your promise, for I know you would not break your word, nor would you promise lightly.”
Leonardo Gilardoni broke into a bitter laugh as he folded his arms and looked his wife steadily in the face.
She raised her hands almost in a supplicating manner, and for a moment he idly noticed the flash and sparkle of a wonderfully brilliant ring upon her finger.
“You mean this proposition seriously?” he asked.
A malevolent light gleamed in the lustrous eyes of Madam Guiscardini, and a spiteful smile curled round the ruby-red lips.
“You think I love you so well that I have taken the trouble and run the risk of secretly traveling all the way hither from London for the sake of lightly enjoying a passing jest with you?” she sibilated.