"Then she will enter a convent." Nobili sighed heavily. "You have broken her heart."
There was a depth of unexpressed reproach in the priest's look. Tears gathered in his eyes, his deep voice shook.
"But why if she ever loved me"—whispered Nobili into Fra Pacifico's ear as though he shrank from letting the very walls hear what he was about to say—
"If she loved you!" burst out Fra Pacifico with rising passion—"if she loved you! You have my word that she loved you—nay, God help her, that she loves you still!"
Fra Pacifico drew back from Nobili as he said this. Again Nobili approached him, speaking into his ear.
"Why, then, if she loved me, could she join with the marchesa against me? Was I not induced by my love for her to pay her aunt's debts? Answer me that, my father. Why did she insist upon this ill-omened marriage?—a proceeding as indelicate as it is—"
"Silence!" thundered Fra Pacifico—"silence, I command you! What you say of that pure and lovely girl whose soul is as crystal before me, is absolute sacrilege. I will not listen to it!"
Fra Pacifico's eyes flashed fire. He looked as if he would strike Count Nobili where he stood. He checked himself, however; then he continued with more calmness: "To become your wife was needful for the honor of Enrica's name, which you had slandered. The child put herself in my hands. I am responsible for this marriage—I only. As to the marchesa, do you think she consults Enrica? The hawk and the dove share not the same nest! No, no. Did the marchesa so much as tell Enrica, when she offered her as wife to Count Marescotti?"
At the sound of Marescotti's name Nobili's assumed composure utterly gave way. His whole frame stiffened with rage.
"Yes—Marescotti—curse him! And I am the husband of the woman he refused!"