"Certainly."
"I won't!"
"Then you could if you would?"
"I can't!"
"Your first word was the better one, my child."
"Very well, I won't! I won't! Aren't you ashamed to ask me to do such a thing? According to your own story, David Leone was my father's friend, yet you wish me to give him up to the law that he may be imprisoned, perhaps for life, and at least turned out of Parliament. Do you suppose I am capable of treachery like that? Do you judge of everybody by yourself?... Ah, I know that story too! For shame! For shame!"
The Baron was silent for a moment, and then said in an impassive voice:
"I will not discuss that subject with you now, my child—you are excited, and don't quite know what you are saying. I will only point out to you that even if David Leone was your father's friend, David Rossi was your own enemy."
"What of that? It's my own affair, isn't it? If I choose to forgive him, what matter is it to anybody else? I do forgive him! Now, whose business is it except my own?"
"My dear Roma, I might tell you that it's mine also, and that the insult that went through you was aimed at me. But I will not speak of myself.... That you should change your plans so entirely, and setting out a month ago to ... to ... shall I say betray ... this man Rossi, you are now striving to save him, is a problem which admits of only one explanation, and that is that ... that you...."