"Not at all," replied the marchesa, curtly. "The count is a republican. I hate republicans. The Guinigi have always been Ghibelline, and loyal. I dislike him, too, personally. I was about to desire you never to bring him here again. Contact with low people has spoiled him. His manners are detestable."
"But, marchesa, che vuole?" Trenta shrugged his shoulders. "He belongs to one of the oldest families in Rome; he is well off, handsome (he reminds me of your ancestor, Castruccio Castracani); a wife might improve him." The marchesa shook her head.
"He like the great Castruccio!—I do not see it."
"Permit me," resumed Trenta, "without entering into details which, as a friend, you have confided to me, I must remind you that your affairs are seriously embarrassed."
The marchesa winced; she guessed what was coming. She knew that she could not deny it.
"You are embarrassed by lawsuits. Unfortunately, all have gone against you."
"I fought for the ancient privileges of the Guinigi!" burst out the marchesa, imperiously. "I would do it again."
"I do not in the least doubt you would do it again, exalted lady," responded Trenta, with a quiet smile. "Indeed, I feel assured of it. I merely state the fact. You have sacrificed large sums of money. You have lost every suit. The costs have been enormous. Your income is greatly reduced. Enrica is therefore portionless."
"No, no, not altogether." The marchesa moved nervously in her chair, carefully avoiding meeting Trenta's steely blue eyes. "I have saved money, Cesarino—I have indeed," she repeated. The marchesa was becoming quite affable. "I cannot touch the heirlooms. But Enrica will have a small portion."
"Well, well," replied Trenta. "But it is impossible you can have saved much since the termination of that last long suit with the chapter about your right to the second bench in the nave of the cathedral, the bench awarded to Count Nobili when he bought the palace. The expense was too great, and the trial too recent."