"Listen, Giustino. Before we fly let me make one last attempt. You have spoken to Cesare Dias; you have told him that you love me, that I adore you; but he didn't believe you——"
"It is true. He smiled incredulously."
"He is a man who has seen a great deal of the world, who has been loved, who has loved; but of all that nothing is left to him. He is cold and solitary. He never speaks of his scepticism, but he believes in nothing. He's a miserable, arid creature. I know that he despises me, thinking me silly and enthusiastic. I pity him as I pity every one who has no love in his heart. And yet—I will speak to Cesare Dias. The truth will well up from me with such impetus that he cannot refuse to believe me. I'll tell him everything. In spite of his forty years, in spite of the corruption of his mind, in spite of all his scorn, all his irony, true love will find convincing words. He'll give his consent."
"Can't you first persuade your sister? There we'd have an affectionate ally," said Giustino, tentatively.
"My sister is worse than Cesare Dias," she answered, with a slight tremor of the voice; "I should never dare to depend on her."
"You are afraid of her?"
"Pray don't speak of her, don't speak of her. It's a subject which pains me."
"And yet——"
"No, no. Laura knows nothing; she must know nothing; it would be dreadful if she knew. I'd a thousand times rather speak to him. He will remember his past; Laura has no past—she has nothing—she's a dead soul. I will speak with him; he will believe me."
"And if he shouldn't believe you?"