or some hours."

"Let Nobili wait," answered the marchesa, a sudden glare darting into
her dark eyes; "he is born to wait for such as I."

"Still"--Trenta was both tired and angry, but he dared not show it;
only he rattled his stick louder on the floor, and from time to time
aimed a savage blow with it against the carved legs of a neighboring
table--"still, why do the thing ungraciously? The count's offers are
magnificent. Surely in the face of absolute ruin--Fra Pacifico assures
me--"

"Let Fra Pacifico mind his own business," was the marchesa's answer.

"Nobili saved Enrica's life last night; that cannot be denied."

"Yes--last night, last night; and I am to be forced and fettered
because I set myself on fire! I wish I had perished, and Enrica too!"

A gesture of horror from the cavaliere recalled the marchesa to a
sense of what she had uttered.

"And do you deem it nothing, Cesare Trenta, after a life spent in
building up the ancient name I bear, that I should be brought to sign
a marriage-contract with a peddler's son?" She trembled with passion.

"Yet it must be done," answered Trenta.

"Must be done! Must be done! I would rather die! Mark my words,
Cesare. No good will come of this marriage. That young man is weak and
dissolute. He is mad with wealth, and the vulgar influence that
comes with wealth. As a man, he is unworthy of my niece, who, I must
confess, has the temper of an angel."

"I believe that you are wrong, marchesa; Count Nobili is much beloved
in Lucca. Fra Pacifico has known him from boyhood. He praises him
greatly. I also like him."

"Like him!--Yes, Cesare, you are such an easy fool you like every one.
First Marescotti, then Nobili. Marescotti was a gentleman, but this
fellow--" She left the sentence incomplete. "Remember my words--you
are deceived in him."

"At all events," retorted the cavaliere, "it is too late to discuss
these matters now. Time presses. Enrica loves him. He insists on
marrying her. You have no money, and cannot give her a portion. My
respected marchesa, I have often ventured to represent to you what
those lawsuits would entail! Per Bacco! There must be an end of all
things--may I call them in?"

The poor old chamberlain was completely exhausted. He had spent four
hours in reasoning with his friend. The marchesa turned her head
away and shuddered; she could not bring herself to speak the word of
bidding. The cavaliere accepted this silence for consent. He struggle