“Cesare,” she said gently, “you are not thinking what you are saying. No one is dragging me into anything. I have made this decision of my own will, after thinking the matter well over alone. You have a personal dislike to Rivarez, I know; but we are talking of politics now, not of persons.”
“Madonna! Give it up! That man is dangerous; he is secret, and cruel, and unscrupulous—and he is in love with you!”
She drew back.
“Cesare, how can you get such fancies into your head?”
“He is in love with you,” Martini repeated. “Keep clear of him, Madonna!”
“Dear Cesare, I can't keep clear of him; and I can't explain to you why. We are tied together—not by any wish or doing of our own.”
“If you are tied, there is nothing more to say,” Martini answered wearily.
He went away, saying that he was busy, and tramped for hours up and down the muddy streets. The world looked very black to him that evening. One poor ewe-lamb—and this slippery creature had stepped in and stolen it away.