"What humiliation?" asked the cavaliere, with surprise.
"The humiliation involved in the confession that my niece is almost portionless." The words seemed to choke her. "She will inherit all I have to leave," and she glanced significantly at the cavaliere; "but that is—you understand me?—uncertain."
"Bagatella!—that will be all right," he rejoined, with alacrity. "The idea of money will not sway Marescotti in the least. He is wealthy—a fine fellow. Have no fear of that. Leave it all to me, Enrica, and Marescotti. I am an old courtier. Many a royal marriage has passed through my hands. Per Bacco—though no one but the duke knew it—through my hands! You may trust me, marchesa."
There was a proud consciousness of the past in the old man's face. He showed such perfect confidence in himself that he imparted the same confidence to the marchesa.
"I would trust no one else, Cesarino," she said, rising from her chair. "But be cautious; bind me to nothing until we meet again. I must hear all that passes between you and the count, then judge for myself."
"I will obey you in all things, noble lady," replied Trenta, submissively.
How he dreaded betraying his secret exultation! To emancipate Enrica from her miserable life by an honorable marriage, was, to his benevolent heart, infinite happiness!
"Good-night, marchesa. May you repose well!"
"Good-night, Cesarino—a rivederci!"
So they parted.