have nothing to do but to breed scandal. They would
slander the Virgin; not for wickedness, but for idleness. I mean to
make them hunt. Hunting is the cure."

Nobili stands as if turned to stone.

"But I must listen," replies Nobili, fiercely, fire flaming in his
eyes. "This lady's honor is my own. Who has dared to couple her name
with any other man? Orsetti--Ruspoli"--and he turns to them in great
excitement--"you are my friends. What does this mean?"

"Nothing," said Orsetti, trying to smile, but not succeeding. "I hear,
Nobili, you have behaved with extraordinary generosity," he adds,
fencing the question.

"Yes, by Jove!" adds Prince Ruspoli. Ruspoli was leaning up against
a pillar, watching Orazio as he would a mischievous cur. "A most
suitable marriage. Not that I care a button for blood, except in
horses."

Nobili has not moved, but, as each speaks, his eye shifts rapidly from
one to the other. His face from pale grows livid, and there is a throb
about his temples that sounds in his ears like a thousand hammers.

"Orsetti," Nobili says, sternly, "I address myself to you. You are the
oldest here. You are the first man I knew after I came to Lucca. You
are all concealing something from me. I entreat you, Orsetti, as man
to man, tell me whose name has been coupled with that of my affianced
wife? That it is a lie I know beforehand--a base and palpable lie! She
has been reared at home in perfect solitude."

Nobili spoke with passionate vehemence. The hot blood rushed over his
face and neck, and tingled to his very fingers. Now he glances from
man to man in an appeal defiant, yet pleading, pitiful to behold.
Every face grows grave.

Orsetti is the first to reply.

"I feel deeply for you, Nobili. We all love you."

"Yes, all," responded Malatesta and Ruspoli, speaking together.

"You must not attach too much importance to idle gossip," says
Orsetti.

"No, no," cried Ruspoli, "don't. I will stand by you, Nobili. I know
the lady by sight--a little English beau"

"Scandal! Who is the man? By God, I'll have his blood within this very
hour!"

Nobili is now wrought up beyond all endurance.

"You can't," says Orazio Franchi, tapping his heel upon the marble
pavement. "He's gone."

"Gone! I'll follow him to hell!" roars Nobili "Who is he?"

"Possibly he may find his own way there in time," answers Orazio, with
a sneer. He rises so as to increase the distance between himself and
Prince Ruspoli. "But as ye