And before Vittoria could answer, she was gone, talking as she went, and not looking back. As the door closed after her, Orsino was beside Vittoria, with both her hands hidden in his and looking into her face. She met his eyes for a moment, and her head sank on his breast, as though she were very tired.
'It is not meant to be, love,' she said, and he could but just hear the words.
'It shall be, whether it is meant or not,' he answered, bending down to her little ear.
'It is all too terrible!' She shook her head against his coat, hiding her face. 'Nothing but death, death, everywhere—my poor brothers—one after the other.' She roused herself and laid her hands upon his shoulders, looking up suddenly into his face with wide, searching eyes. 'Tell me that Ippolito did not kill him!' she begged. 'Tell me that it is not true! I shall believe you. I cannot believe myself, when I say it.'
'It is not true,' answered Orsino, earnestly. 'I will pledge you what you will for my brother, my word of honour—everything. It is not true,' He repeated the words slowly and emphatically.
'I know it is not, when you say it.' Her head sank upon his shoulder. 'But it is all so terrible, so horrible! Tebaldo killed him. I know it. I knew he would, when I saw his face that night, after they had quarrelled. Tebaldo has put it upon your brother—I know it, though I do not know how it was.'
He kissed her hair, for he could not see her face.
'It is a worse crime than if Ippolito had killed him to defend himself,' she said. 'I feel—I do not know—but I love you so—and yet—oh, Orsino, Orsino! How will it all end?'
She rocked herself a little, to and fro, her forehead against his coat, and her hand twisted painfully upon his, but there were no tears in her voice, for she had shed all she had in the lonely nights since she had seen him last.