"I have been awake, thinking. I remember being taken ill. I remember everything. Tell me. I must know. Did you—did you mean—everything you said? You pitied me, and my story made you sad. I would not hold you to your word."
She drew herself up; she was pale no longer; the color burned in her cheeks.
"I am a Marioni!" she answered proudly. "Every word I said seems to me now too weak. That is the only change."
He held out his hands; she grasped them fondly.
"Margharita, she came here!" he whispered.
"What, here? Here in this room?"
He nodded.
"It was two days before you came. I was sitting alone in the twilight. The door opened. I thought I was dreaming. It was she, as beautiful as ever, richly dressed, happy, comely. She came to pity, to sue for pardon. I let her talk, and then, when I had gathered strength, I stood up and cursed her. I thrust her away; I cursed her with the fiercest and crudest words which my lips could utter. It drove the warm color from her cheeks, and the light from her eyes. I cursed her till her heart shook with fear. She staggered out of the room a stricken woman. I——"
"Tell me her name."
"It was Adrienne Cartuccio. It is now Lady Maurice."