'There are spirits; the so-called incredulous deny their existence in bad faith—yes, because they don't know the facts, and then say they are false; because they see nothing, their eyes being blinded by scepticism, they say there is nothing—insincerely altogether.'
The doctor smiled at his excitement, but, glancing at Bianca Maria, he saw she was in torment; he guessed that behind this discussion was the secret of the hostility. Being accustomed to sick and excited people's outbursts, he examined the Marquis with a doctor's eye, following the violent stages of his excitement.
'Quite insincere—quite!' the Marquis screamed out, going up and down the room, speaking to himself. 'Hundreds of honest men, scientists, gentlemen, ladies, have seen, touched, spoken with the spirits, held important interviews with them; there are printed books, thick volumes, about the very thing you deny totally. What do you think this help from the spirits is?'
He stopped in front of Amati to ask him the question. Although the doctor did not want to make him angrier by contradiction, the demand was too direct not to answer it. He glanced at the Lady Bianca, and saw in her face such secret anxiety to know the truth, and such agitation, he brought it out straight:
'I believe it is an imposture.'
The medium cast up his eyes, swimming in tears. Bianca Maria's face got serene, but Formosa's voice hissed with rage:
'Then, you think me a fool?'
'No; but your soul is too loyal and generous not to be easily cheated.'
'Nonsense!' the Marquis called out, quivering—'nonsense! You can't get out of it; Don Pasqualino is a cheat, and I am a donkey.'
'I deny the second part,' said the doctor dryly.