"He's a bad man."
"He's a man," said Giustino, shortly.
"But it's an act of cruelty that he's committing," she cried, lifting her hands towards heaven.
Giustino did not speak.
"What did you answer? What did you plead? Didn't you tell him again that you love me, that I adore you, that I shall die if we are separated? Didn't you describe our despair to him?"
"It was useless," replied Giustino, sadly.
"Oh, dear! Oh, dear! You didn't tell him of our love, of our happiness? You didn't implore him, weeping? You didn't try to move his hard old heart? But what sort of man are you; what sort of soul have you, that you let them sentence us to death like this? O Lord! O Lord!—what man have I been loving?"
"Anna, Anna!" he said, softly.
"Why didn't you defy him? Why didn't you rebel? You're young; you're brave. How could Cesare Dias, almost an old man, with ice in his veins, how could he frighten you?"