"I shall not expect anything of the sort, for I am not so foolish. You never had the slightest affection for me, and you have lost such little decent regard for me as you once felt, because I am always ill and it gives you trouble to be considerate. You would not raise a finger to help me or protect me unless you were afraid of the world's opinion. I have known that a long time, and now that I am in trouble I will not come to you. Why should I? You are only waiting for me to die, in order to ask Laura to marry you. It would annoy you extremely if I lived long enough to give her time to marry Ghisleri."
"I think remarks of that sort are in the worst possible taste," answered Savelli, "besides being without the least foundation in truth. I will beg you not to make any more of them. As for what you say about Ghisleri, if you refuse to tell me what you know I shall ask advice of my father, as that is the only proper course I could follow under the circumstances."
"For once we agree!" exclaimed Adele, with a scornful laugh. "That is precisely what I mean to do myself, and I will go to him to-morrow morning and tell him the whole story. But I will not tell it to you. He may, if he pleases, and thinks it best."
"In that case I have nothing more to say," answered Francesco. "You could not select a more fit person than my father."
"I am perfectly well aware of the fact." Adele, womanlike, was determined to have the last word, no matter how insignificant.
Both were silent during the remainder of the drive home. At the foot of the grand staircase Francesco left his wife and got into the carriage to be driven to his club. He reflected on the truth of Adele's observation, when she had said that she might live until Laura and Ghisleri were married, and he was by no means pleased as he realised how probable that contingency was. Since she had become a slave to morphia he had, of course, been at some pains to ascertain the limits of the disease, and the possible duration of it, and he was aware that some persons lived for many years in spite of a constant and increasing abuse of the poison.
Adele once more went over the whole story in her mind, preparing the details of it and polishing all the parts into a harmonious whole. In spite of what she had suffered that evening she would not increase her dose, though she knew that she must very probably spend a sleepless night. She profited by the hours to review the story she intended to tell her father-in-law. At eleven o'clock on the following morning she sent up to inquire whether he would see her, and he at once appeared in person at the door of her boudoir,—a tall, bearded man of fifty years or more, slightly stooping, not over-carefully dressed, wearing spectacles, and chiefly remarkable for his very beautifully shaped hands, with which he made energetic gestures at almost every minute, when speaking.
Adele began in some trepidation to explain how, on the previous evening, she had lost her temper and had been betrayed into making a remark about Ghisleri of which her husband had demanded an explanation. She felt, she said, that the matter was so serious as to justify her in referring it at once to the head of the family, who might then act as he thought best with regard to keeping it a secret or informing his son of what had happened. She did not fail to add that one of her motives in refusing to tell what she knew to Francesco, was her anxiety for his safety, since the affair concerned herself and he would undoubtedly take it up as a personal matter and quarrel with the dangerous man who had so long been her enemy. The Prince approved this course with a grave nod, and waited for more.
Then she told her story from beginning to end. She of course took advantage of the fact that her father-in-law was but slightly acquainted with Ghisleri to paint his character with the colours best suited to her purpose, while asserting nothing about him which could be in direct contradiction to the testimony of others. She spoke very lucidly and connectedly, for she knew the lesson well and she was conscious that her whole existence was at stake. One fault, one little error sufficient to cast suspicion on her veracity, might be enough to ruin her in the end. She concluded by a well-turned and pathetic allusion to her state of health, which indeed was pitiable enough. She knew that she was dying, but it would make death doubly painful to think that such an enemy as Ghisleri was left behind to blacken her memory and perhaps hereafter to poison the thought of her in her children's hearts. She also read extracts from Ghisleri's letters and showed Laura's card, before mentioned.
As she proceeded she watched the Prince's face, and she saw that she had produced the right impression from the first. The plausibility of the tale, as she told it, was undeniable, and might have shaken the belief in Ghisleri's integrity in the minds of men who knew him far better than the elder Savelli. As she had anticipated, the latter took up the question as one deeply affecting the honour of his name. He was very angry in his calm way, and his blue eyes flashed through his great gold-rimmed spectacles, while his slender, energetic white hand clenched itself and opened frequently upon his knee.