"If we die, we shall be buried; if we live, we shall give them to the hangman."
From Margherita's aunt he got but little comfort or hope of assistance.
"Oh, my dear boy, I agree with your every word," the old lady said. "But what can I do? I know better than you what it will lead to, but Margherita is like iron—there is no reasoning with her. She would sacrifice herself, Lucrezia, even me, to see Martel avenged, and if she does not have her way she will burn herself to ashes. As for Lucrezia, she is demented, and they do nothing all day but scheme and plan with Aliandro, who is himself as bad as any bandit. I have no voice with them; they do with me as they will." She hid her face in her trembling fingers and wept softly. "And to think—we were all so happy with Martel!"
"Nevertheless, somebody must dissuade them from this enterprise. It is no matter for two girls and an old man to undertake."
"I pray hourly for guidance, but I am frightened, so frightened! When Margherita talks to me, when I see her high resolve, I am ready to follow; then when I am alone I become like water again."
"What are her plans?"
"I do not know. I have begged her to take her sorrow to God. The bishop who came from Messina to marry Martel and remained to bury him has joined me. There is a convent at Palermo—"
"No, no!" Blake cried, vehemently. "Not that! That life is not for her.
She must do nothing at all until her grief has had time to moderate."
"It will never be less. You do not know her. But you are the one to reason with her."
Realizing that the old lady was powerless, he returned to the garden and tried once more to weaken the girl's resolution, but without success. It was with a very troubled mind that he took the train back to San Sebastiano that afternoon.