“I do, my father.”

“Then she will enter a convent.”  Nobili sighed heavily.  “You have broken her heart.”

There was a depth of unexpressed reproach in the priest’s look.  Tears gathered in his eyes, his deep voice shook.

“But why if she ever loved me”—­whispered Nobili into Fra Pacifico’s ear as though he shrank from letting the very walls hear what he was about to say—­

“If she loved you!” burst out Fra Pacifico with rising passion—­“if she loved you!  You have my word that she loved you—­nay, God help her, that she loves you still!”

Fra Pacifico drew back from Nobili as he said this.  Again Nobili approached him, speaking into his ear.

“Why, then, if she loved me, could she join with the marchesa against me?  Was I not induced by my love for her to pay her aunt’s debts?  Answer me that, my father.  Why did she insist upon this ill-omened marriage?—­a proceeding as indelicate as it is—­”

“Silence!” thundered Fra Pacifico—­“silence, I command you!  What you say of that pure and lovely girl whose soul is as crystal before me, is absolute sacrilege.  I will not listen to it!”

Fra Pacifico’s eyes flashed fire.  He looked as if he would strike Count Nobili where he stood.  He checked himself, however; then he continued with more calmness:  “To become your wife was needful for the honor of Enrica’s name, which you had slandered.  The child put herself in my hands.  I am responsible for this marriage—­I only.  As to the marchesa, do you think she consults Enrica?  The hawk and the dove share not the same nest!  No, no.  Did the marchesa so much as tell Enrica, when she offered her as wife to Count Marescotti?”

At the sound of Marescotti’s name Nobili’s assumed composure utterly gave way.  His whole frame stiffened with rage.

“Yes—­Marescotti—­curse him!  And I am the husband of the woman he refused!”

“For shame, Count Nobili!—­you have yourself exonerated her.”

“Enrica must have been an accomplice!” cried Nobili, transported out of himself.  Count Marescotti’s name had exasperated him beyond control.

“Fool!” exclaimed Fra Pacifico.  “Will you not listen to reason?  Has not Enrica by her own act renounced all claim to you as a wife?  Is not that enough?”

Nobili was silent.  Hitherto he had been driven on, goaded by the promptings of passion, and the firm belief that Enrica was the mere tool of her aunt.  Now the same facts detailed by the priest placed themselves in a new light.  For the first time Nobili doubted whether he was entirely justified in all that he had done—­in all that he was about to do.

Meanwhile Fra Pacifico was losing all patience.  His manly nature rose within him at what he considered Nobili’s deliberate cruelty.  Inflexible in right, Fra Pacifico was violent in face of wrong.

“Why did you not let her die?” he exclaimed, bitterly.  “It would have saved her a world of suffering.  I thought I knew you, Mario Nobili—­knew you from a boy,” he added, contemplating him with a dark scowl.  “You have deceived me.  Every word you utter only sinks you lower in my esteem.”