This was not true; for if a prince ever lived who trusted implicitly to wicked counsellors, it was Francesco; but for this once he was right.
"Come, then, this deed cannot be helped, but it may be avenged——"
"Be it so."
"Can any one hear us?" asked Francesco, raising himself to a sitting posture upon the bed; and lifting the silk curtains, he turned his searching eye around the room. "Go and see, Giordano, if the doors are shut close. Bianca may be listening; I can live no longer with this woman, and yet I cannot do without her. I could swear that this witch has charmed me. Would that I could break the spell—I will try——"
"They are all shut."
"Sit down, come nearer, and let us think of a remedy; having maturely considered the subject, it seems to me, that this is the best thing to do." And here, lowering his voice, he began to whisper mysteriously, as if he were reciting his prayers. From time to time a word louder than the rest could be heard, like a drop of water falling from the roof of a cave to the ground, breaking at measured intervals the frightful silence. The Duke did not seem a living being, except by his opening wide his right hand, and then clenching it tightly. Francesco, ceasing his murmuring, looked intently at his brother-in-law, who stood motionless and horror-stricken; finally he spoke, likewise in a subdued voice:
"You have awakened a hell in my heart. And what shall I say to Virginio, if ever he should ask me: Where is my mother?"
"Virginio will never know it; and even if he did, he would say: He did well. I am educating Virginio."
"But do we not believe, Francesco, that after death there is yet to be a judgment?"