Hedwig leaned heavily on the table in an agony of suspense.

“The fellow answered that if I were insulted he was ready to fight then and there, in the road, with my pistols.  He is no coward, your lover,—­I will say that.  The end of it was that I came home and he did not.”

Hedwig sank into the chair that her father had left, and hid her face.

“Oh, you have killed him!” she moaned.

“No,” said the count shortly; “I did not touch a hair of his head.  But he rode away toward Trevi.”  Hedwig breathed again.  “Are you satisfied?” he asked, with a hard smile, enjoying the terror he had excited.

“Oh, how cruel you are, my father!” she said, in a broken voice.

“I tell you that if I could cure you of your insane passion for this singer fellow, I would be as cruel as the Inquisition,” retorted the count.  “Now listen to me.  You will not be troubled any longer with Benoni,—­the beast!  I will teach him a lesson of etiquette.  You need not appear at dinner to-night.  But you are not to suppose that our residence here is at an end.  When you have made up your mind to act sensibly, and to forget the Signor Cardegna, you shall return to society, where you may select a husband of your own position and fortune, if you choose; or you may turn Romanist, and go into a convent, and devote yourself to good works and idolatry, or anything else.  I do not pretend to care what becomes of you, so long as you show any decent respect for your name.  But if you persist in pining and moaning and starving yourself, because I will not allow you to turn dancer and marry a strolling player, you will have to remain here.  I am not such pleasant company when I am bored, I can tell you, and my enthusiasm for the beauties of nature is probably transitory.”

“I can bear anything if you will remove Benoni,” said Hedwig, quietly, as she rose from her seat.  But the pressure of the iron keys that she had hidden in her bosom gave her a strange sensation.

“Never fear,” said the count, taking his hat from the table.  “You shall be amply avenged of Benoni and his foul tongue.  I may not love my daughter, but no one shall insult her.  I will have a word with him this evening.”

“I thank you for that, at least,” said Hedwig, as he moved to the door.

“Do not mention it,” said he, and put his hand on the lock.

A sudden impulse seized Hedwig.  She ran swiftly to him, and clasped her hands upon his arm.

“Father?” she cried, pleadingly.

“What?”

“Father, do you love me?” He hesitated one moment.

“No,” he said, sternly; “you disobey me”; and he went out in rough haste.  The door closed behind him, and she was left standing alone.  What could she do, poor child?  For months he had tormented her and persecuted her, and now she had asked him plainly if she still held a place in his heart, and he had coldly denied it.