“Again I warn you, my daughter, such pride is unseemly.  Summon Enrica at once.  Let us hear what she says.”

The marchesa drew back into the shadow, and was silent.  As long as she could bring her battery of arguments against Fra Pacifico, she felt safe.  What Enrica might say, who could tell?  One word from Enrica might overturn all her subtle combinations.  That Fra Pacifico should assist her was indispensable.  Another priest, less interested in Enrica, might, under the circumstances, refuse to unite them.  Even if that difficulty could be got over, the marchesa was fully alive to the fact that a painful scene would probably occur—­such a scene as ought not to be witnessed by a stranger.  Hence her hesitation in calling Enrica.

During this pause Fra Pacifico crossed his arms upon his breast and waited in silence.

“Let Enrica come,” said the marchesa at last; “I have no objection.”  She threw herself back on her seat, and doggedly awaited the result.

Fra Pacifico rose and opened a door on the other side of the room, communicating with the vaulted passage which had connected the villa with the tower.

“Who is there?” he called. (Bells were a luxury unknown at Corellia.)

“I,” answered Angelo, running forward, his eyes gleaming like two stars.  Angelo sometimes acted as acolyte to Fra Pacifico.  Angelo was proud to show his alacrity to his reverence, who had often cuffed him for his mischievous pranks; specially on one occasion, when Fra Pacifico had found him in the act of pushing Gigi stealthily into the marble basin of the fountain, to see if, being small, Gigi would swim like the gold-fish.

“Go to the Signorina Enrica, Angelo, and tell her that the marchesa wants her.”

As long as Enrica was ill, Fra Pacifico went freely in and out of her room; now that she was recovered, and had risen from her bed, it was not suitable for him to seek her there himself.

CHAPTER V.

TO BE, OR NOT TO BE?

When Angelo knocked at Enrica’s door, Pipa, who was with her, opened it, and gave her Fra Pacifico’s message.  The summons was so sudden Enrica had no time to think, but a wild, unmeaning delight possessed her.  It was so rare for her aunt to send for her she must be going to tell her something about Nobili.  With his name upon her lips, Enrica started up from the chair on which she had been half lying, and ran toward the door.

“Softly, softly, my blessed angel!” cried Pipa, following her with outstretched arms as if she were a baby taking its first steps.  “You were all but dead this morning, and now you run like little Gigi when I call to him.”

“I can walk very well, Pipa.”  Enrica opened the door with feverish haste.  “I must not keep my aunt waiting.”

“Let me put a shawl round you,” insisted kind Pipa.  “The evening is fresh.”

She wrapped a large white shawl about her, that made Enrica look paler and more ghost-like than before.