“Reports, to what effect?” said Anna.
“That Carlo Ammiani had slunk from a combat with your duellist.”
“Oh! I knew that myself,” Anna remarked.
“You were the loudest in proclaiming it.”
“Because I intend to ruin him.”
“Carlo Ammiani? What has he done to you?”
Anna's eyes had fallen on the additional lines of the letter which she had not dictated. She frowned and exclaimed:
“What is this? Does the man play me false? Read those lines, Lena, and tell me, does the man mean to fight in earnest who can dare to write them? He advises Ammiani to go to Venice. It's treason, if it is not cowardice. And see here—he has the audacity to say that he deeply respects the lady Ammiani is going to marry. Is Ammiani going to marry her? I think not.”
Anna dashed the letter to the floor.
“But I will make use of what's within my reach,” she said, picking it up.