There was a little pause here. I was trying from where I sat to have a glimpse of Ravenutzi, to see how this affected him, if at all, when I heard some disturbance behind me, and a voice crying out:
“No, no, I cannot lose you both!”
I turned, and I saw Prassade stooping to disengage his knees from his wife’s clinging, and holding her from him by the shoulders, begin to speak.
“I also....”
“Outliers,” he said, and by the hollowness of his voice and the sinking of his cheek under the red beard they saw what havoc grief and disgrace had made in him, “Outliers, it is through my blood dishonor came, and one of my blood must cure it. There is none but me.”
There was a general outcry of dismayed protest and assurance.
“Not you, Prassade, not you....”
“No fault of yours....”
“She has paid....”
“She was but a child, she has paid in full....”