"I suppose," he said, "that her excellency is gone out in the boat with the Signor Batiscombe." He pronounced all the letters of the name, as though it had been Italian; but it was unmistakable. Marcantonio turned upon him in amazement.
"Animal!" he exclaimed, "are you drunk?"
"I, eccellenza?" cried Temistocle in hurt tones. "I drunk? Heaven forbid."
"Then you are crazy," remarked Marcantonio, more and more astonished. "The Signor Batiscombe is no longer here."
"Pardon me, eccellenza," retorted the servant respectfully. "I imagined that your excellency knew. The Signor Batiscombe comes every day, and takes the Signora Marchesa out in a boat. He is become a very strange signore, for he dresses like a fisherman, and has let his beard grow as long as this—so," the man explained, holding his hand a few inches from his face. "Mi maraviglio, io!" he exclaimed, casting his eyes to the ground.
Marcantonio was speechless with amazement and horror, and turned his back upon the servant. A man less thoroughly a gentleman in every sense would have fallen upon Temistocle and beaten him, then and there. By a great effort, Marcantonio collected himself, and turned again.
"You have not to make any remarks upon the appearance of the Signor Batiscombe," he said briefly. "Basta!"
Temistocle had nothing left but to bow and leave the room. He did not understand his master in the least; he was just like a foreigner, he thought.
But Marcantonio dropped into an arm-chair, the moment he was alone, as though all the strength and life were suddenly gone from him. He could not in the least realise the extent of the revelation contained in Temistocle's words. He did not know what to do, and for the moment it did not even strike him that there was anything to be done. In the course of half an hour he grew calmer and began to review the situation.
He remembered distinctly every word of Diana's concerning the trouble when Batiscombe was in the house. Diana had said very distinctly that Julius had insulted Leonora—and Diana always spoke the truth. Marcantonio had not asked her what the insult had been. He could not bring himself to do it, and he did not want to know anything more. He would have cheerfully fought with Batiscombe on the strength of his sister's assertion, but she had dissuaded him, and now he was sorry for it.