“Signor Cardegna,” he said, “the fact that I am here ought to be to you the fullest demonstration that I acknowledge your marriage with my daughter.  I have certainly no intention of prolonging a painful interview.  When I have said that my child has disobeyed me, I have said all that the question holds.  As for the future of you two, I have naturally nothing more to say about it.  I cannot love a disobedient child, nor ever shall again.  For the present, we will part; and if at the end of a year my daughter is happy with you, and desires to see me, I shall make no objection to such a meeting.  I need not say that if she is unhappy with you my house will always be open to her, if she chooses to return to it.”

“No, sir, most emphatically, you need not say it!” cried Nino, with blazing eyes.  Lira took no notice of him, but turned to go.

Hedwig would try once more to soften him, though she knew it was useless.

“Father,” she said, in tones of passionate entreaty, “will you not say you wish me well?  Will you not forgive me?” She sprang to him and would have held him back.

“I wish you no ill,” he answered shortly, pushing her aside, and he marched to the door, where he paused, bowed as stiffly as ever, and disappeared.

It was very rude of us, perhaps, but no one accompanied him to the stairs.  As for me, I would not have believed it possible that any human being could be so hard and relentlessly virtuous; and if I had wondered at first that Hedwig should have so easily made up her mind to flight, I was no longer surprised when I saw with my own eyes how he could treat her.

I cannot, indeed, conceive how she could have borne it so long, for the whole character of the man came out, hard, cold, and narrow,—­such a character as must be more hideous than any description can paint it, when seen in the closeness of daily conversation.  But when he was gone the sun appeared to shine again, as he had shone all day, though it had sometimes seemed so dark.  The storms were in that little room.

As Lira went out, Nino, who had followed Hedwig closely, caught her in his arms, and once more her face rested on his broad breast.  I sat down and pretended to be busy with a pile of old papers that lay near by on the table, but I could hear what they said.  The dear children, they forgot all about me.

“I am so sorry, dear one,” said Nino soothingly.

“I know you are, Nino.  But it cannot be helped.”

“But are you sorry, too, Hedwig?” he asked, stroking her hair.

“That my father is angry?  Yes.  I wish he were not,” said she, looking wistfully toward the door.

“No, not that,” said Nino.  “Sorry that you left him, I mean.”

“Ah, no, I am not sorry for that.  Oh, Nino, dear Nino, your love is best.”  And again she hid her face.

“We will go away at once, darling,” he said, after a minute, during which I did not see what was going on.  “Would you like to go away?”