“Do you play with your life?”
Carlo was about to answer in the tone he had assumed for the interview. He checked the laugh on his lips.
“She must have some regard for my life, such as it's worth, since, to tell you the truth, she is in the house now, and came here to give me fair warning.”
“Then, you trust her.”
“I? Not a single woman in the world!—that is, for a conspiracy.”
It was an utterly fatuous piece of speech. Merthyr allowed it to slip, and studied him to see where he was vulnerable.
“She is in the house, you say. Will you cause her to come before me?”
“Curiously,” said Carlo, “I kept her for some purpose of the sort. Will I? and have a scandal now? Oh! no. Let her sleep.”
Whether he spoke from noble-mindedness or indifference, Merthyr could not guess.
“I have a message from your friend Luciano. He sends you his love, in case he should be shot the first, and says that when Lombardy is free he hopes you will not forget old comrades who are in Rome.”