A smile of triumph, which Taddeo did not observe, flitted across La Felina's face. She said, "What say you?—do you oppose the union?"
"It is no longer possible, signora," said Taddeo, giving way to his emotion—"it cannot be. Vice and virtue—the serpent and the dove—heaven and hell—may be mingled, but not Aminta and Monte-Leone. He is unworthy of her."
"Unworthy?" said La Felina—"your heroic friend unworthy of her?"
"My friend! I deny him. He was my friend, as Judas was Christ's. For he has sold his, as the recreant sold our Saviour."
"Taddeo! is it you who speak thus?"
"It is. I, whose soul has been crushed by his cruel deception—I, whose holy faith in his truth has perished—I, who must detest him whom I loved and honored!" Unable any longer to conceal the odious secret within his breast, he opened his bleeding heart to La Felina.
When the Duchess had heard him, she said, "No, it is impossible!—Monte-Leone is not a traitor, a coward, the basest of men."
"Ah! you say so; so did I. I repelled the charge with horror; yet I was forced to yield to reason and evidence."
"It is evident either that you saw or did not see him."
"But the departure from your hotel," said Taddeo, "coincides so fatally with his arrival at the prefecture of police—the very answer of the driver proves all."