Mariuccia looked round, then leaned forward and spoke in a stage whisper. "The padrone wants to marry her—in two weeks—and it is I, who have lived with him for twenty years, who tell you this—if he wants to, he will. When the devil gets into him—God forgive me for speaking so of my own master—he is as obstinate as a mule, and, in one manner or another, is sure to get his way. Giannella is a good obedient child, and he persuaded the most excellent Princess to tell her that it was her duty to consent. But if the Princess, who is a most noble Christian, had known half what I know, she would let herself be eaten by wolves before she tried to give him the girl. For he will starve her to death—he cannot help it, that is the way the good God made him, poor man—I know what I am talking about. Oh, what is the matter? Madonna mia, are you going to have a fit?"
For Rinaldo's face had turned alarmingly red, his eyes were half closed and the veins stood out swollen and purple on his temples, which he was hammering with his clenched fists. Mariuccia ran to him and pulled his hands down from his head and shook him violently. Then he seemed to come to himself. The flush ebbed from his face, leaving him of a ghastly paleness, his arms fell at his sides, and he sank, limp and exhausted, into the chair she had just quitted. She hastened to bring him a drink of water, and when he had swallowed it he looked up gratefully saying, "Thank you, I am better now——" He seemed to speak with difficulty. "Pray excuse me. I was overcome for a moment. You were telling me—oh, the words will choke me—that Bianchi—is persecuting Giannella—that assassin, that executioner—he—"
"Stop," cried Mariuccia; "you shall not speak of the padrone like that. He is a good man. It is not his fault. You will understand when I tell you how it all happened. Three months ago—"
"Three months," Rinaldo exclaimed; "but why did you not tell me? Do you not know that I adore Giannella? that I do not see the hour to marry her myself?"
"Traitor," thundered the old woman, "have you been daring to make love to her in secret? You whom I took for a galantuómo, a man of honor—a good Christian? Imbecile, donkey that I have been to trust you!"
Her outbreak of righteous wrath was terrifying, and Rinaldo, who, when not angry, was quite a gentle and unwarlike person, quailed under it for a moment, and was half inclined to believe that he had behaved very badly. But only for a moment. He remembered that there had never been the slightest intention of deceiving Mariuccia or anybody else; that it was only because she had stayed at home during the Professor's illness that he had not spoken to her before. How he and Giannella had come to understand each other was their own affair; he would submit to no catechism on that point.
Mariuccia was opening her mouth to speak again, but he held up his hand for silence, and, coming close to her, looked her squarely in the eyes. "Sora Mariuccia," he said, "your first opinion of me is the right one. I am an honest man and, I hope, a good Christian. I love your Giannella so truly that since I first saw her I have had one thought only, to make her my wife. I have never spoken one word to her which I could not have spoken in church at the foot of the altar with all the saints in paradise listening to me. I was only waiting for an opportunity of opening my heart to you. I consume with love for her—and I know that she loves me. I am not rich, but I can maintain her in all comfort and decorum—though not as she deserves. Would anything in the world be too good for her? No, but I will make her the happiest woman in Rome. I promise you that. And you, dear, kind Sora Mariuccia, you will leave that cataplasm of a Professor and come and live with us, will you not?"
He took both her hands in his, and there was great earnestness in his bright eyes. He looked so true and gentle and handsome that Mariuccia's heart became as melting wax. She threw her arms round his neck and kissed him on both cheeks; then she stood back and looked at him again, laughing and crying at once.
"Figlio mio bello, I see, I understand. You have a heart of gold. Forgive me for that outburst. What would you have? I was frightened for a moment. You see I have kept Giannella like the Bambino Gesú down there in the church, under glass. Till this year she never went out alone except for the few yards from our door to San Severino and for the marketing close by. She has never spoken to a stranger—except you—she is a flower of candor, her soul is as pure as the wax on the altar. What would you have? The world is bad and I am only a stupid old woman, and I was frightened. But now let us discourse reasonably."
She sat down again and Rinaldo drew his stool close to the big chair and prepared to listen. She laid a hand on his knee and went on very seriously. "If you want to marry Giannella, you must persuade two persons, my padrone—oh, do hear me patiently!" for Rinaldo seemed on the point of interrupting her—"yes, my padrone, and the most excellent Princess——"