Before the count could answer, Pipa was gone.

"My son," said Fra Pacifico, standing beside him in the dimly-lighted room, "you have now had time to reflect. Do you accept the separation offered to you by your wife?"

"I do, my father."

"Then she will enter a convent." n.o.bili sighed heavily. "You have broken her heart."

There was a depth of unexpressed reproach in the priest's look. Tears gathered in his eyes, his deep voice shook.

"But why if she ever loved me"--whispered n.o.bili into Fra Pacifico's ear as though he shrank from letting the very walls hear what he was about to say--

"If she loved you!" burst out Fra Pacifico with rising pa.s.sion--"if she loved you! You have my word that she loved you--nay, G.o.d help her, that she loves you still!"

Fra Pacifico drew back from n.o.bili as he said this. Again n.o.bili approached him, speaking into his ear.

"Why, then, if she loved me, could she join with the marchesa against me? Was I not induced by my love for her to pay her aunt's debts?

Answer me that, my father. Why did she insist upon this ill-omened marriage?--a proceeding as indelicate as it is--"

"Silence!" thundered Fra Pacifico--"silence, I command you! What you say of that pure and lovely girl whose soul is as crystal before me, is absolute sacrilege. I will not listen to it!"

Fra Pacifico's eyes flashed fire. He looked as if he would strike Count n.o.bili where he stood. He checked himself, however; then he continued with more calmness: "To become your wife was needful for the honor of Enrica's name, which you had slandered. The child put herself in my hands. I am responsible for this marriage--I only. As to the marchesa, do you think she consults Enrica? The hawk and the dove share not the same nest! No, no. Did the marchesa so much as tell Enrica, when she offered her as wife to Count Marescotti?"

At the sound of Marescotti's name n.o.bili's a.s.sumed composure utterly gave way. His whole frame stiffened with rage.

"Yes--Marescotti--curse him! And I am the husband of the woman he refused!"

"For shame, Count n.o.bili!--you have yourself exonerated her."

"Enrica must have been an accomplice!" cried n.o.bili, transported out of himself. Count Marescotti's name had exasperated him beyond control.

"Fool!" exclaimed Fra Pacifico. "Will you not listen to reason? Has not Enrica by her own act renounced all claim to you as a wife? Is not that enough?"

n.o.bili was silent. Hitherto he had been driven on, goaded by the promptings of pa.s.sion, and the firm belief that Enrica was the mere tool of her aunt. Now the same facts detailed by the priest placed themselves in a new light. For the first time n.o.bili doubted whether he was entirely justified in all that he had done--in all that he was about to do.

Meanwhile Fra Pacifico was losing all patience. His manly nature rose within him at what he considered n.o.bili's deliberate cruelty.

Inflexible in right, Fra Pacifico was violent in face of wrong.

"Why did you not let her die?" he exclaimed, bitterly. "It would have saved her a world of suffering. I thought I knew you, Mario n.o.bili--knew you from a boy," he added, contemplating him with a dark scowl. "You have deceived me. Every word you utter only sinks you lower in my esteem."

"It would indeed have been better had we both perished in the flames!"

cried n.o.bili in a voice full of anguish--"perished--locked in each other's arms! Poor Enrica!" He turned away, and a low sob burst from his heart of hearts. "The marchesa has destroyed my love!--She has blighted my life!" n.o.bili's voice sounded hollow in the dimly-lighted room. At last n.o.bili was speaking out--speaking, as it were, from the grave of his love! "Yes, I loved her," he continued dreamily--"I loved her! How much I did not know!"

He had forgotten he was not alone. The priest was but dimly visible.

He was leaning against the wall, his ma.s.sive chin resting on his hand, listening to n.o.bili. Now, hearing what he said, Fra Pacifico's anger had vanished. After all, he had not been mistaken in his old pupil!

n.o.bili was neither cruel nor heartless; but he had been driven to bay!

Now he pitied him, profoundly. What could he say to him? He could urge n.o.bili no more. He must work out his own fate!

Again n.o.bili spoke.

"When I saw her sweet face turned toward me as she entered the chapel, I dared not look again! It was too late. My pride as a man, all that is sacred to me as a gentleman, has been too deeply wounded. The marchesa has done it. She alone is responsible. _She_ has left me no alternative. I will never accept a wife forced upon me by _her_--never, by Heaven! My father, these are my last words. Carry them to Enrica."

Count n.o.bili's head dropped upon his breast. He covered his face with his hands.

"My son, I leave you in the hands of G.o.d. May He lead you and comfort you! But remember, the life of your wife is bound up in _your_ life.

Hitherto Enrica has lived upon hope. Deprived of hope, _she will die_."

When n.o.bili looked up, Fra Pacifico was gone.

CHAPTER XI.

FACE TO FACE.

The time had now come when Count n.o.bili must finally make up his mind.

He had told Fra Pacifico that his determination was unaltered. He had told him that his dignity as a man, his honor as a gentleman, demanded that he should free himself from the net-work of intrigues in which the marchesa had entangled him. Of all earthly things, compliancy with her desires most revolted him. Rather than live any longer the victim either of her malice or her ambition, he had brought himself to believe that it was his duty to renounce Enrica. Until Fra Pacifico had entered that room within which he was again pacing up and down with hasty strides, no doubt whatever had arisen in his mind as to what it was inc.u.mbent upon him to do: to give Enrica the protection of his name by marriage, then to separate. Whether to separate in the manner pointed out by Guglielmi he had not decided. An innate repulsion, now increased by suspicion, made him distrust any act pressed upon him by that man, especially when urged in concert with the marchesa.

Every hour pa.s.sed at Corellia was torture to him. Should he go at once, or should he remain until the morning?--sign the deed?--complete the sacrifice? Already what he had so loudly insisted on presented itself now to him in the light of a sacrifice. Enrica loved him still--he believed Fra Pacifico. The throbbing of his heart as he thought of her told him that he returned that love. She was there near him under the same roof. Could he leave her? Yes, he must leave her!

He would trust himself no longer in the hands of the marchesa or of her agent. Instinct told him some subtle scheme lay under the urgings of Guglielmi--the dangerous civilities of the marchesa. He would go. The legal separation might be completed elsewhere. Why only at Corellia? Why must those formalities insisted on by Guglielmi be respected? What did they mean? Of the real drift of the delay n.o.bili was utterly ignorant. Had he asked Fra Pacifico, he would have told him the truth, but he had not done so.

To meet Enrica in the morning; to meet her again in the presence of her detested aunt; to meet her only to sign a deed separating them forever under the mockery of mutual consent, was agony. Why should he endure it?

n.o.bili, wrought up to a pitch of excitement that almost robbed him of reason, dares not trust himself to think. He seizes his hat, which lay upon the table, and rushes out into the night. The murmur of voices comes dimly to him in the freshness of the air out of a window next his own. A circle of light shines on the glistening gravel before him.

There must be people within--people watching him, doubtless. As the thought crosses his mind he is suddenly pinned to the earth. Argo is watching for him--stealthy Argo--Argo springs upon him silently from behind; he holds him tightly in his grip. The dog made no sound, nor does he now, but he has laid n.o.bili flat on the ground. He stands over him, his heavy paws planted upon his chest, his open jaws and dripping tongue close upon his face, so close, that n.o.bili feels the dog's hot breath upon his skin. n.o.bili cannot move; he looks up fixedly into Argo's glaring, bloodshot eyes. His steady gaze daunts the dog. In the very act of digging his big fangs into n.o.bili's throat Argo pauses; he shrinks before those human eyes before which the brutish nature quails. In an instant n.o.bili's strong hands close round his throat; he presses it until the powerful paws slacken in their grip--until the fiery eyes are starting from their sockets.

Silent as is the struggle the other dogs are alarmed--they give tongue from different sides. Footsteps are rapidly approaching--the barrel of a gun gleams out of the darkness--a shot is fired--the report wanders off in endless reverberation among the rocks--another shot, and another, in instant succession, answer each other from behind the villa.

With a grasp of iron n.o.bili holds back gallant Argo--Argo foaming at the mouth; his white-coated chest heaving, as if in his last agony!

Yet Argo is still immovable--his heavy paws upon n.o.bili's chest pressing with all his weight upon him!

Now the footsteps have turned the corner! Dim forms already shape themselves in the night mist. The other dogs, barking savagely, are behind--they are coming--they are at hand! Ah! n.o.bili, what can you do now?--n.o.bili understands his danger. Quick as thought n.o.bili has dealt Argo a tremendous blow under the left ear. He seizes him by his milk-white hair so long and beautiful, he flings him against the low wall almost insensible. Argo falls a shapeless ma.s.s. He is stunned and motionless. Before the shadow of Adamo is upon him--before the dogs noses touch him--n.o.bili is on his feet. With one bound he has leaped through the window--the same from which the voices had come (it has been opened in the scuffle)--in an instant he closes the sash! He is safe!

Coming suddenly out of the darkness, after the great force he had put forth, n.o.bili feels giddy and bewildered. At first he sees nothing but that there is a light in the centre of the room. As his eyes fix themselves upon it the light almost blinds him. He puts his hand to his forehead, where the veins had swollen out like cords upon his fair skin. He puts up his hands to shade his dazzled eyes before which clouds of stars dance desperately. He steadies himself and looks round.

Before him stands Enrica!

By Pipa's care the bridegroom's chamber had been chosen next the bride's when she prepared Count n.o.bili's room. Pipa was straightforward and simple in her notions of matrimony, but, like a wise woman, she had held her tongue.

n.o.bili and Enrica are alone. A furtive glance pa.s.ses between them.

Neither of them moves. Neither of them speaks. The first movement comes from Enrica. She sinks backward upon a chair. The tangle of her yellow hair closes round her face upon which a deep blush had risen at sight of n.o.bili. When that blush had died out she looked resigned, almost pa.s.sionless. She knew that the moment had come which must decide her fate. Before they two parted she would hear from the lips of the man she loved if they were ever to meet again! Her eyes fell to the ground. She dared not raise them. If she looked at n.o.bili, she must fling herself into his arms.

n.o.bili, standing on the same spot beyond the circle of the light, gazes at Enrica in silence. He is overwhelmed by the most conflicting emotions. But the spell of her beauty is upon him. His pulses beat madly. For an instant he forgets where he is. He forgets all but that Enrica is before him. For a moment! Then his brain clears. He remembers every thing--remembers--oh, how bitterly!--that, after all that has pa.s.sed, his very presence in that room is an insult to her!

He feels he ought to go--yet an irresistible longing chains him to the spot. He moves toward the door. To reach it he must pa.s.s close to Enrica. When he is near the door he stops. The light shows that his clothes are torn--that there is blood upon his face and hands. In scarcely articulate words n.o.bili addresses her.

"Enrica--countess, I mean"--n.o.bili hesitates--"pardon this intrusion.--You saw the accident.--I did not know that this was _your_ room."

Again n.o.bili pauses, waiting for an answer. None comes. Would she not speak to him? Alas! had he deserved that she should? n.o.bili takes a step or two toward the door. With one hand upon the lock he pauses once more, gazing at Enrica with lingering eyes. Then he turns to leave the room. It is all over!--he had only to depart! A low cry from Enrica stops him.