"I am glad you say 'not yet.' I hope you will take time to consider. If I can help you, you may command me, Count Nobili." And Nera paused and sighed.
"Help me, Nera!—You can save me!" He started to his feet. "I am so wretched—so wounded—so desperate!"
"Sit down," she answered, pointing to the sofa.
Mechanically he obeyed.
"You are nothing of all this if you do not marry Enrica Guinigi; if you do, you are all you say."
"What am I to do?" exclaimed Nobili. "I have signed the contract."
"Break it"—Nera spoke the words boldly out—"break it, or you will be dishonored. Do you think you can live in Lucca with a wife that you have bought?"
Nobili bounded from his chair.
"O God!" he said, and clinched his hands.
"You must be calm," she said, hastily, "or my mother will hear you." (All she can do, she thinks, is not worse than Nobili deserves, after that ball.) "Bought!—Yes. Will any one believe the marchesa would have given her niece to you otherwise?"