"Yes—it is true," replied Ghisleri, after hesitating a few seconds.
"And that you had a discussion with him about Lady Herbert at the San Giacinto's dinner table?"
"Yes," admitted Ghisleri, who saw that his worst fears were about to be realised.
"Are you going to fight?" asked Maddalena, in a metallic tone.
"Yes. We are going to fight."
"So you have already forgotten what you promised me this afternoon. You said you would do all a man could do to avoid a quarrel—for my sake. Six hours had not passed before you had broken your word. That is the sort of faith you keep with me."
Pietro Ghisleri began to think that his misfortunes would never end. For some time he sat in silence, staring before him. Should he tell her the whole story? Should he go over the abominable scene with Campodonico, and tell her all the atrocious insults he had patiently borne for Bianca Corleone's sake, until Maddalena's own name had seemed to set him free from his obligation to the dead woman? He reflected that it would sound extremely theatrical and perhaps improbable in her ears, for she distrusted him enough already. Besides, if she believed him, to tell her would only be to afford his own vanity a base satisfaction. This last view was perhaps a false one, but with his character it was not unnatural.
"I have kept my word," he said at last, "for I have borne all that a man can bear to avoid this quarrel."
"I am sorry you should be able to bear so little for me," answered Maddalena, her voice as hard as ever.
"I have done my best. I am only a man after all. If you had heard what passed, you would probably now say that I am right."