"I have not told you anything about it yet, Diana mia," he said. "I have been so busy, so many things to do." He passed his hand over his forehead as he spoke, as though trying to collect himself.
"Of course," said Diana gently. "Do not tire yourself now, dear boy. Another time will do just as well. I know all that is absolutely necessary."
Marcantonio laughed very slightly and a little foolishly, and again put his hand to his head.
"Oh, no," he answered, "I shall not tire myself. You do not know anything about the—the—occurrence."
"No," said she, "that is true."
"They went away at night," said Marcantonio quickly, and then stopped.
"Pray do not tell me about it, dear brother," said Diana, rising and seating herself near to him on the opposite side of the carriage. She laid her hand on his arm, trying to soothe him, for she feared a return of his old state.
"But I must tell you," he said impatiently, and she saw it was useless to protest. "They went away at night," he continued, "in a boat. I heard the dogs barking, just for a moment, and then they stopped, and I went to sleep. I went to sleep, Diana," he cried savagely, "when she was running away with him, and I could have killed him as easily as possible. I could have killed them both—oh, so easily!" He groaned aloud and clenched his thin hands.
"Hush!" said Diana, softly.
"I could have killed them as easily as he killed the dogs and stopped their barking," he went on; "he killed them both, wrung their necks—poverini—as though they were not right to call me. And I never guessed anything, though I heard them!"