“I would not have you false to her in thought or deed.”

“You ask me to spare this man on account of his relationship to your lover, and though he has murdered the brother of the lady whom I esteem.  What on earth is the meaning of the petition?  Really, you amaze me.”

“I appeal to your generosity, Wilfrid, I am Emilia.”

“Are you?”

She gave him her hand.  He took it, and felt at once the limit of all that he might claim.  Dropping the hand, he said: 

“Will nothing less than my ruin satisfy you?  Since that night at La Scala, I am in disgrace with my uncle; I expect at any moment to hear that I am cashiered from the army, if not a prisoner.  What is it that you ask of me now?  To conspire with you in shielding the man who has done a mortal injury to the family of which I am almost one.  Your reason must perceive that you ask too much.  I would willingly assist you in sparing the feelings of Count Ammiani; and, believe me, gratitude is the last thing I require to stimulate my services.  You ask too much; you must see that you ask too much.”

“I do,” said Vittoria.  “Good-night, Wilfrid.”

He was startled to find her going, and lost his equable voice in trying to detain her.  She sought relief in Laura’s bosom, to whom she recapitulated the interview.

“Is it possible,” Laura said, looking at her intently, “that you do not recognize the folly of telling this Lieutenant Pierson that you were pleading to him on behalf of your lover?  Could anything be so monstrous, when one can see that he is malleable to the twist of your little finger?  Are you only half a woman, that you have no consciousness of your power?  Probably you can allow yourself—­enviable privilege!—­to suppose that he called you down at this late hour simply to inform you that he is compelled to do something which will cause you unhappiness!  I repeat, it is an enviable privilege.  Now, when the real occasion has come for you to serve us, you have not a single weapon—­except these tears, which you are wasting on my lap.  Be sure that if he denounces Angelo, Angelo’s life cries out against you.  You have but to quicken your brain to save him.  Did he expose his life for you or not?  I knew that he was in Meran,” the signora continued sadly.  “The paper which frightened the silly peasants, revealed to me that he was there, needing help.  I told you Angelo was under an evil star.  I thought my day to-morrow would be a day of scheming.  The task has become easy, if you will.”

“Be merciful; the task is dreadful,” said Vittoria.