Upon that point she was inflexible.  Her Uncle Paolo might have led her to change her mind in regard to many things, for she was open to persuasion where her common sense was concerned.  But in her love for Gianbattista she was fixed and determined.  It would have been more easy to turn her father from his ideas than to make Lucia give up the man she loved.  When Marzio had suddenly declared that she should marry the lawyer, her first feeling had been one of ungovernable anger which had soon found vent in tears.  During the night she had thought the matter over, and had come to the conclusion that it was only an evil jest, invented by Marzio to give her pain.  But in the morning it seemed to her as though on the far horizon a black cloud of possible trouble were gathering; she had admitted to herself that her father might be in earnest, and she had felt something like the anticipation of the great struggle of her life.  Then she felt that she would die rather than submit.

She had no theatrical desire to swear a fearful oath with Gianbattista that they should drown themselves at the Ponte Quattro Capi rather than be separated.  Her nature was not dramatic, any more than his.  The young girl dressed herself quickly, and made up her mind that if any pressure were brought to bear upon her she would not yield, but that, until then, there was no use in making phrases, and it would be better to be as cheerful as possible under the circumstances.  But for Lucia’s reassuring manner, the Signora Pandolfi would have doubtless succumbed to her feelings and gone to bed.  Lucia, however, had no intention of allowing her mother any such weakness, and accordingly alternately comforted her and suggested means of escape from the position, as though she were herself the mother and Maria Luisa were her child.

They found Don Paolo in his small lodging, and he bid them enter, that they might all talk the matter over.

“In the first place,” said the priest, “it is wrong.  In the second place it is impossible.  Thirdly, Marzio will not attempt to carry out his threat.”

“Dear me!  How simple you make it seem!” acclaimed the Signora Pandolfi, reviving at his first words, like a tired horse when he sees the top of the hill.

“But if papa should try and force me to it—­what then?” asked Lucia, who was not so easily satisfied.

“He cannot force you to it, my child—­the law will not allow him to do so.  I told you so last night”

“But the law is so far off—­and he is so violent” answered the young girl.

“Never fear,” said Don Paolo, reassuring her.  “I will manage it all.  These will be a struggle, perhaps; but I will make him see reason.  He had been with his friends last night, and his mind was excited; he was not himself.  He will have thought differently of it this morning;”

“On the contrary,” put in the Signora Pandolfi, “he waked me up at daylight and gave me a quantity of money to go and buy Lucia’s outfit.  And he will come home at midday and ask to see the things I have brought, and so I thought perhaps we had better buy something just to show him—­half a dozen handkerchiefs—­something to make a figure, you understand?”