Gesualdo winced, as though some one had wounded him.
"I am come to bid you go out of Marca," he said, simply.
The young man stared at him; then he laughed angrily.
"Good Ser Vicario," he said, impatiently, "you are the keeper of our souls, no doubt, but not quite to such a point as that. Has Tassilo sent you to me, or she?" he added, with a gleam of suspicion in his eyes.
"No one has sent me."
"Why, then——"
"Because, if you do not go, there will be tragedy and misery. Tasso Tassilo is not a man to make you welcome to his couch. I have known Generosa since she was a little child: we were both born on the Bocca d'Arno. She is of a warm nature, but not a deep one; and if you go away she will forget. Tassilo is a rude man and a hard one; he gives her all she has; he has many claims on her, for in his way he has been generous and tender. You are a stranger; you can only ruin her life; you can with ease find another gattaria far away in another province: why will you not go? If you really loved her you would go."
Falko laughed. "Dear Don Gesualdo, you are a holy man, but you know nothing of love."
Gesualdo winced a little again. It was the second time this had been said to him this evening.
"Is it love," he said, after a pause, "to risk her murder by her husband? I tell you Tassilo is not a man to take his dishonor quietly."