I was silent: in those days the argument seemed unanswerable.
At length I said: “No harm can come to her while you are away. Donna Marianna and I are here to watch over her. And when you come back—“
He looked at me gravely. “If I come back—“
“Roberto!”
“We are men, Egidio; we both know what is coming. Milan is up already; and there is a rumor that Charles Albert is moving. This year the spring rains will be red in Italy.”
“In your absence not a breath shall touch her!”
“And if I never come back to defend her? They hate her as hell hates, Egidio!—They kept repeating, ‘He is of her own age and youth draws youth—.’ She is in their way, Egidio!”
“Consider, my son. They do not love her, perhaps; but why should they hate her at such cost? She has given you no child.”
“No child!” He paused. “But what if—? She has ailed lately!” he cried, and broke off to grapple with the stabbing thought.
“Roberto! Roberto!” I adjured him.