"She whose name you are not more worthy to speak than I, never meant that I should not defend a good and helpless woman because the liar who accuses her chances to be called Gianforte Campodonico."
"And the one who defends her, Pietro Ghisleri," retorted Gianforte. "Where can my friends find yours?"
"At my lodging, if that suits them."
"Perfectly."
Campodonico turned on his heel and slowly went towards the group at the other end of the room. Ghisleri followed him at a distance, lighting a fresh cigarette as he walked. He had recovered his composure the moment he had felt himself freed from the obligation to bear the insults heaped upon him by Bianca Corleone's brother.
It must not be supposed that no one had watched the two as they stood talking before the picture. More than one person had noticed the fierce look in Campodonico's eyes, and the unnatural paleness of Ghisleri's face. One of these was Donna Maria Boccapaduli.
"I suppose you have been discussing that painting," she said carelessly to Pietro. "People always do."
"Yes," answered Ghisleri, as indifferently as he could.
"And what was the result of the discussion?"
"We agreed to differ." Pietro laughed a little harshly.