Even Taquisara thought substantially as they did, and he was a man singularly regardless of conventions.  It was true that he was almost as ignorant of the state of affairs as Gianluca’s father and mother.  After the first exchange of letters Gianluca had grown suddenly reticent.  So long as Veronica had seemed altogether beyond his reach he had not hesitated to confide in the brave and honourable man who was such a devoted friend to him; but as soon as he began to feel himself growing intimate with Veronica, he ceased to speak of her except in general terms.  Taquisara, if he had ever felt the need of confidence, would have stopped at the same point, or earlier, and he understood, and did not press Gianluca with questions.  The latter had said that from time to time Donna Veronica had been kind enough to write to him—­but that was all, and he never said it again.  When the Sicilian heard of the invitation to Muro, however, he felt that he had a right to express himself, since the matter was an open one and concerned the whole family.  He felt, too, an immense satisfaction in having produced so great a result by his letter.

He had written to Veronica what the doctor had told him about the general verdict after the last consultation.  For himself, his faith in doctors was not by any means blind, and he was not without some hope that Gianluca might recover.  At all events, it was his duty to cheer the man as far as he could, and he imagined nothing more likely to produce a good effect than the now reasonable suggestion that Veronica might possibly change her mind.

“Of course,” he said to Gianluca, “the whole situation is extraordinary beyond anything I ever knew.  But since Donna Veronica has left her aunt, no one can dispute her right to do as she pleases.  An invitation to you and your family means a reopening of the question of the marriage.  There can be no doubt of that.  In my opinion, she has reconsidered the matter and means to accept you, after all.”

Gianluca smiled, and his sunken eyes brightened.  But he would not admit that he really had any hopes.

“I wish I were as sanguine as you,” he answered.

“If you had my temperament, you would not be where you are, my dear friend,” replied Taquisara, with a dry laugh.  “I look at the world differently.  My life may not be worth much, but it is mine, and I would not let a man take it from me with his hands, nor a woman with her eyes—­without fighting for it, if I had the chance.”

“How can a man fight against a woman?” laughed Gianluca, for he was very happy.

“You fight a man by facing him, and a woman by turning your back on her,” said Taquisara.  “There are more women in the world than there are men to love them, after all.  For one that will not have you, there are three who will.  Take one of the three.”

“What do you know about it?  You always say that you were never really in love.  How can you tell what you would do?”