'He could be Duke of Milan if he would. Not to take what is offered him is to cheat me, considering why I married him.'
'If this were so, it is the price you pay for having cheated him by taking him to husband. Did you tell him this before you were wed?'
'As if such things are ever said! You are dull sometimes, Bellarion.'
'Perhaps. But if they are not said, how are they to be known?'
'Why else should I have married a man old enough to be my father? It was no natural union. Could a maid bring love to such a marriage?'
'Ask some one else, madonna.' His manner became frosty. 'I know nothing of maids and less of love. These sciences were not included in my studies.'
And then, finding that hints were wasted against Bellarion's armour of simplicity—an armour assumed like any other panoply—she grew outrageously direct.
'I could repair the omission for you, Bellarion,' she said, her voice little more than a tremulous whisper, her eyes upon the ground.
Bellarion started as if he had been stung. But he made a good recovery.
'You might; if there were no Facino.'