"Certainly," replied Olive, trying to appear cheerful.
"Do you think my friend would be justified in seeking revenge on the woman who sent him to despair, and worse than death?"
"I do not know all the circumstances, signore," she replied, "neither do I think that revenge is ever justifiable."
"Ah, no. You believe in the teaching of the Founder of your religion, 'love your enemies,' eh? But if you knew, signorina, if you knew!"
"The woman may be suffering more than you think."
"Suffering! Ah, I have seen her. Her life is one long song. She is careless, she has a life full of pleasure. Her admirers throng around her. She professes to be a Christian, too, and goes to church; but she thinks not of the poor soul wandering in blackest night. But I think he would be justified in seeking revenge."
"What revenge?" asked Olive. "What kind of revenge could he take?"
"I have thought of that, signorina, and I cannot think what it should be. She is to all appearances beyond his reach. She is rich, powerful, petted, courted; while he—ah, if I only knew where he was! Yet sometimes I think he must be planning his revenge. It would be better for her if he had died. For, if he does take revenge, it will be sure, and the torture will be exquisite."
"Perhaps he loves her still."
"Loves her! No, he hates her with all the madness with which he loved her. His passion of love has turned to bitterness, to wormwood. That is why I think his degradation and despair will drive him to revenge. I am glad I am in a Christian country, where the vendetta is not known. Good-night, signorina."