Count Nobili and Fra Pacifico exchange glances. There is a knock at the door. Pipa enters carrying a lighted lamp which she places on the table. Pipa does not even salute Fra Pacifico, but fixes her eyes, swollen with crying, upon Count Nobili.
"What is the matter?" asks the priest.
"Riverenza, I do not know. Adamo and Angelo are out watching."
"But, Pipa, it is very strange. A shot was fired. The dogs, too, are wilder than ever."
"Riverenza, I know nothing. Perhaps there are some deserters about. We are used to the dogs. I never hear them. I am come from the signorina."
At that name Count Nobili looks up and meets Pipa's gaze. If Pipa could have stabbed him then and there with the silver dagger in her black hair she would have done it, and counted it a righteous act. But she must deliver her message.
"Signore Conte"—Pipa flings her words at Nobili as if each word were a stone, with which she would have hit him—"Signore Conte, the marchesa has sent me. The marchesa bids me salute you. She desired me to bring in this light. I was to say supper is served in the great sala. She eats in her own room with the cavaliere, and hopes you will excuse her."
Before the count could answer, Pipa was gone.
"My son," said Fra Pacifico, standing beside him in the dimly-lighted room, "you have now had time to reflect. Do you accept the separation offered to you by your wife?"
"I do, my father."