"I screened her in the first fury of my anger—I screened her when I believed her guilty. Now it is too late—God help her!" He turned abruptly away.
Cavaliere Trenta, whose vehemence had died away as suddenly as it had risen, crept to the door. He threw up his hands in despair. There was no help for Enrica!
All this time Maestro Guglielmi's keen eyes had noted every thing. He was on the lookout for evidence. Persons under strong emotions, as a rule, commit themselves. Count Nobili was young and hot-headed. Count Nobili would probably commit himself. Up to this time Count Nobili had said nothing, however, that could be made use of. Guglielmi's ready brain worked incessantly. If he could carry out the plan he had formed, he might yet be a judge within the year. Already Guglielmi feels the touch of the soft fur upon his official robes!
After the cavaliere's departure, Guglielmi advanced. He had been standing so entirely concealed in the shadow thrown by the altar, that Nobili had forgotten his presence. Nobili now stared at him in angry surprise.
"With your permission," said the lawyer, with a low bow, accosting Nobili, "I hope to convince you how much you have wronged me by your accusation."
"What accusation?" demanded the count, drawing back toward the window.
"I do not understand you."
Guglielmi was the marchesa's adviser; Count Nobili hated him.
"Your accusation that 'I am here to insult you.' If you will do me the honor, Count Nobili, to speak to me in private"—Guglielmi glanced at Silvestro, Adamo, and Angelo, peering out half hid by the altar—"if you will do me this honor, I will prove to you that I am here to serve you."
"That is impossible," answered Nobili. "Nor do I care. I leave this house immediately."
"But allow me to observe, Count Nobili," and Maestro Guglielmi drew himself up with an air of offended dignity, "you are bound as a gentleman to retract those words, or to hear my explanation." (Delay at any price was Guglielmi's object.) "Surely, Count Nobili, you cannot refuse me this satisfaction?"