“Words are useless,” replied Ferrante, with ill-restrained enthusiasm. “I have already decided on the means I shall employ. That man’s life becomes more odious to me than before, since as long as he lives I shall not dare to look on you again. I shall await the signal of the reservoir bursting on to the street.” He bowed swiftly, and went out. The duchess watched him go.
When he had reached the next apartment she called him back. “Ferrante,” she cried, “noble fellow!”
He returned, as though impatient at being delayed; at that moment there was something magnificent about his face.
“And your children?”
“Madam, they will be richer than I. You will perhaps grant them some trifling income.”
“Here,” said the duchess, holding out a sort of large olive-wood case, “here are all the diamonds I have left. They are worth fifty thousand francs.”
“Ah, madam, you humiliate me,” exclaimed Ferrante, with a horrified gesture, and his whole countenance changed.
“I shall never see you again before the thing is done. Take this, I desire it,” added the duchess, with a haughty expression which crushed Ferrante. He slipped the case into his pocket and retired.
He had closed the door behind him when the duchess called him back, and he returned, wearing an anxious expression. The duchess was standing in the middle of the drawing-room. She threw herself into his arms. After a moment Ferrante almost fainted from sheer happiness. The duchess freed herself from his embrace, and glanced meaningly at the door.
“This is the only man who has ever understood me,” said the duchess to herself. “Fabrizio would have behaved like that if he could have understood me.”