At the sound of Trenta’s voice, Count Nobili started and turned around.  Enrica had already disappeared.

“You will soon give her another bridegroom—­he will not leave her as you have done—­that bridegroom will be Death!  To-day it is the bridal-veil—­to-morrow it will be the shroud.  Not a month ago she lay upon what might have been her death-bed.  Your infamous letter did that!” The remembrance of that letter roused the cavaliere out of himself; he cared not what he said.  “That letter almost killed her.  Would to God she had died!  What has she done?  She is an angel!  We were all here when you signed the contract.  Why did you break it?” Trenta’s shrill voice had risen into a kind of wail.  “Do you mean to doubt what I told you at Lucca?  I swear to you that Enrica never knew that she was offered in marriage to Count Marescotti—­I swear it!—­I did it—­it was my fault.  I persuaded the marchesa.  It was I. Enrica and Count Marescotti never met but in my presence.  And you revenge yourself on her?  If you had the heart of a man, you could not do it!”

“It is because I have the heart of a man, I will not suffer degradation!” cried Nobili.  “It is because I have the heart of a man, I will not sink into an unworthy tool!  This is why I refuse to live with her.  She is one of a vile conspiracy.  She has joined with the marchesa against me.  I have been forced to marry her.  I will not live with her!”

Count Nobili stopped suddenly.  An agonized expression came into his face.

“I screened her in the first fury of my anger—­I screened her when I believed her guilty.  Now it is too late—­God help her!” He turned abruptly away.

Cavaliere Trenta, whose vehemence had died away as suddenly as it had risen, crept to the door.  He threw up his hands in despair.  There was no help for Enrica!

All this time Maestro Guglielmi’s keen eyes had noted every thing.  He was on the lookout for evidence.  Persons under strong emotions, as a rule, commit themselves.  Count Nobili was young and hot-headed.  Count Nobili would probably commit himself.  Up to this time Count Nobili had said nothing, however, that could be made use of.  Guglielmi’s ready brain worked incessantly.  If he could carry out the plan he had formed, he might yet be a judge within the year.  Already Guglielmi feels the touch of the soft fur upon his official robes!

After the cavaliere’s departure, Guglielmi advanced.  He had been standing so entirely concealed in the shadow thrown by the altar, that Nobili had forgotten his presence.  Nobili now stared at him in angry surprise.

“With your permission,” said the lawyer, with a low bow, accosting Nobili, “I hope to convince you how much you have wronged me by your accusation.”

“What accusation?” demanded the count, drawing back toward the window.  “I do not understand you.”

Guglielmi was the marchesa’s adviser; Count Nobili hated him.