He glanced as he spoke toward the dial of the clepsydra, and Giulia followed his look in the same direction; it was half an hour after midnight.
“The marquis explained to your lordship, or partially so, the motive of his importunate visit,” said Giulia, endeavoring to appear calm and collected.
“The marquis is an unworthy—reckless—unprincipled young man,” exclaimed the count, fixing a stern, searching gaze upon Giulia’s countenance, as if with the iron of his words he would probe the depths of her soul. “He is a confirmed gamester—overwhelmed with debts—and has tarnished, by his profligacy, the proud name that he bears. Even the friendship which existed for many, many years between his deceased father and myself, shall no longer induce me to receive at this house a young man whose reputation is all but tainted, even in a city of dissipation and debauchery, such as, alas! the once glorious Florence has become! For his immorality is not confined to gaming and wanton extravagance,” continued the count, his glance becoming more keen, as his words fell like drops of molten lead upon the heart of Giulia; “but his numerous intrigues amongst women—his perfidy to those confiding and deceived fair ones——”
“Surely, my lord,” said the countess, vainly endeavoring to subdue the writhings of torture which this language excited,—“surely the Marquis d’Orsini is wronged by the breath of scandal?”
“No, Giulia, he is an unprincipled spendthrift,” returned the count, who never once took his eyes off his wife’s countenance while he was speaking:—“an unprincipled spendthrift,” he added emphatically,—“a man lost to all sense of honor—a ruined gamester—a heartless seducer—a shame, a blot, a stigma upon the aristocracy of Florence;—and now that you are acquainted with his real character, you will recognize the prudence of the step which I shall take to-morrow—that is, to inform him that henceforth the Count and Countess of Arestino must decline to receive him again at their villa. What think you, Giulia?”
“Your lordship is the master to command, and it is my duty to obey,” answered the countess; but her voice was hoarse and thick, the acutest anguish was rending her soul, and its intensity almost choked her utterance.
“She is guilty!” thought the count within himself; and to subdue an abrupt explosion of his rage, until he had put the last and most certain test to his lady’s faith, he walked twice up and down the room; then, feeling that he had recovered his powers of self-control, he said, “To-morrow, Giulia, is the reception day of his highness the duke, and I hope thou hast made suitable preparations to accompany me in the manner becoming the wife of the Count of Arestino.”
“Can your lordship suppose for an instant that I should appear in the ducal presence otherwise than is meet and fitting for her who has the honor to bear your name?” said Giulia, partially recovering her presence of mind, as the conversation appeared to have taken a turn no longer painful to her feelings—for, oh! cannot the reader conceive the anguish, the mortal anguish, she had ere now endured when her husband was heaping ashes on the reputation of her lover!
“I do not suppose that your ladyship will neglect the preparations due to your rank and to that name which you esteem it an honor to bear, and which no living being should dishonor with impunity!”
Giulia quailed—writhed beneath the searching glance which now literally glared upon her.