CHAPTER IV.
FRA PACIFICO AND THE MARCHESA.
On the evening of that day the marchesa was in her own room, opening from the sala. The little furniture the room contained was collected around the marchesa, forming a species of oasis on the broad desert of the scagliola floor. A brass lamp, placed on a table, formed the centre of this habitable spot. The marchesa sat in deep shadow, but in the outline of her tall, slight figure, and in the carriage of her head and neck, there was the same indomitable pride, courage, and energy, as before. A paper lay on the ground near her; it was Nobili's letter. Fra Pacifico sat opposite to her. He was speaking. His deep-set luminous eyes were fixed on the marchesa. His straight, coarse hair was pushed up erect upon his brow; there was at all times something of a mane about it. His cassock sat loosely about his big, well-made limbs; his priestly stock was loosed, showing the dark skin of his throat and chin. In the turn of his eye, in the expression of his countenance, there were anxiety, restlessness, and distrust.
"Yes—Enrica has recovered for the present," he was saying, "but such an attack saps and weakens the very issues of life. Count Nobili, if not brought to reason, would break her heart." She was obstinately silent. The balance of her mind was partially upset. "'I shall never see Nobili again,' was all she would say to me. It is a pity, I think, that you sent the cavaliere away to Lucca. Enrica might have opened her mind to him."
As he spoke, Fra Pacifico crossed one of his legs over the other, and arranged the heavy folds of his cassock over his knees.
"And who says Enrica shall not see Nobili again?" asked the marchesa, defiantly. "Holy saints! That is my affair. I want no advice. My honor is now as much concerned in the completion of this marriage as it was before to prevent it. The contract has been signed in my presence. The money agreed upon has been paid over to me. The marriage must take place. I have sent Trenta to Lucca to make preliminary arrangements."
"I rejoice to hear it," answered Fra Pacifico, his countenance brightening. "There must be some extraordinary mistake. The cavaliere will explain it. Some enemies of your family must have misled Count Nobili, especially as there was a certain appearance of concealment respecting Count Marescotti. It will all come right. I only feared lest the language of that letter would have, in your opinion, rendered the marriage impossible."
"That letter does not move me in the least," answered the marchesa haughtily, speaking out of the shadow. She gave the letter a kick, sending it farther from her. "I care neither for praise nor insult from such a fellow. He is but an instrument in my hand. He has, however, justified my bad opinion of him. I am glad of that. Do you imagine, my father," she added, leaning forward, and bringing her head for an instant within the circle of the light—"do you imagine any thing but absolute necessity would have induced me to allow Count Nobili ever to enter my presence?"
"I am bound to tell you that your pride is un-Christian, my daughter." Fra Pacifico spoke with warmth. "I cannot permit such language in my presence."
The marchesa waved her hand contemptuously, then contemplated him, a smile upon her face.