“My daughter, I do not defend him.  If need be, I have sworn to punish him with my own hand.  But, until I know all the circumstances, I pity him; I repeat, I pity him.  Some powerful influence must have been brought to bear upon Nobili.  It may have been a woman.”

“Ha! ha!” laughed the marchesa, contemptuously.  “You admit, then, Nobili has a taste for women?”

Fra Pacifico rose suddenly from his chair.  An expression of deep displeasure was on his face, which had grown crimson under the marchesa’s taunts.

“I desire no altercation, marchesa, nor will I permit you to address such unseemly words to me.  What I deem fitting I shall say, now and always.  It is my duty.  You have called me here.  What do you want?  How can I help you?  In all things lawful I am ready to do so.  Nay, I will take the whole matter on myself if you desire.”

As he spoke, Fra Pacifico stooped and raised Nobili’s crumpled letter from the floor.  He spread it out open on the table.  The marchesa motioned to him to reseat himself.  He did so.

“What I want?” she said, taking up the priest’s words.  “I will tell you.  When I bring Count Nobili here”—­the marchesa spoke very slowly, and stretched out her long fingers, as though she held him already in her grasp—­“when I bring Count Nobili here, I want you to perform the marriage ceremony.  It must take place immediately.  Under the circumstances the marriage had better be private.”

“I shall not perform the ceremony,” answered Fra Pacifico, his full, deep voice ringing through the room, “at your bidding only.  Enrica must also consent.  Enrica must consent in my presence.”

As the light of the lamp struck upon Fra Pacifico, the lines about his mouth deepened, and that look of courage and of command the people of Corellia knew so well was marked upon his countenance.  A rock might have been moved, but not Fra Pacifico.

“Enrica shall obey me!” cried the marchesa.  Her temper was rising beyond control at the idea of any opposition at such a critical moment.  She had made her plan, settled it with Trenta; her plan must be carried out.  “Enrica shall obey me,” she repeated.  “Enrica will obey me unless instigated by you, Fra Pacifico.”

“My daughter,” replied the priest, “if you forget the respect due to my office, I shall leave you.”

“Pardon me, my father,” and the marchesa bowed stiffly; “but I appeal to your justice.  Can I allow that reprobate to break my niece’s heart?—­to tarnish her good name?  If there were a single Guinigi left, he would stab Nobili like a dog!  Such a fellow is unworthy the name of gentleman.  Marriage alone can remove the stain he has cast upon Enrica.  It is no question of sentiment.  The marriage is essential to the honor of my house.  Enrica must be called Countess Nobili, whether Nobili pleases it or not.  Else how can I keep his money?  And without his money—­” She paused suddenly.  In the warmth of speech the marchesa had been actually led into the confession that Nobili was necessary to her “I have the contract,” she added.  “Thank Heaven, I have the contract!  Nobili is legally bound by the contract.”