"Considering that you are endangering the life of my dearest friend for him, I think I have some right to speak of him."
She was silent, and they faced each other for several seconds with very different expressions. She was pale again, now, but her eyes were full of light and softness, and there was a very faint shadow of a smile flickering about her slightly parted lips, as if she saw a wonderful and absorbing sight. Lamberti's gaze, on the contrary, was cold and hard, for he was jealous of the unknown man and angry at not being able to find out who he was. She did not guess his jealousy, indeed, for she did not suspect what he felt; but she knew that his righteous anger on Guido's behalf was unconsciously directed against himself.
"You will never know who he is," she said at last, very gently.
"We shall all know, when you marry him," Lamberti answered with unnecessary roughness.
"No, I shall never marry him," she said. "I mean never to see him again. I would not marry him, even if he should ever love me."
"Why not?"
"For Guido's sake. I have treated Guido very badly, though I did not mean to do it. If I cannot marry Guido, I will never marry at all."
"That is like you," Lamberti answered, and his voice softened. "I believe you are in earnest."
"With all my heart. But promise me one thing, please, on your word."
"Not till I know whether I may."