The signora was a late riser.  The duchess had come on a second visit to Vittoria when Laura joined them, and hearing of the arrangement, spurned the notion of playing craven before the Lenkensteins, who, she said, might think as it pleased them to think, but were never to suppose that there was any fear of confronting them.  “And now, at this very moment, when they have their triumph, and are laughing over Viennese squibs at her, she has an idea of hiding her head—­she hangs out the white flag!  It can’t be.  We go or we stay; but if we stay, the truth is that we are too poor to allow our enemies to think poorly of us.  You, Amalia, are victorious, and you may snap your fingers at opinion.  It is a luxury we cannot afford.  Besides, I wish her to see my sister and make acquaintance with the Austrianized-Italian—­such a wonder as is nowhere to be seen out of the Serabiglione and in the Lenkenstein family.  Marriage is, indeed, a tremendous transformation.  Bianca was once declared to be very like me.”

The brow-beaten duchess replied to the outburst that she had considered it right to propose the scheme for Vittoria’s seclusion on account of the Guidascarpi.

“Even if that were a good reason, there are better on the other side,” said Laura; adding, with many little backward tosses of the head, “That story has to be related in full before I denounce Angelo and Rinaldo.”

“It cannot be denied that they are assassins,” returned the duchess.

“It cannot be denied that they have killed one man or more.  For you, Justice drops from the bough:  we have to climb and risk our necks for it.  Angelo stood to defend my darling here.  Shall she be ashamed of him?”

“You will never persuade me to tolerate assassination,” said the duchess colouring.

“Never, never; I shall never persuade you; never persuade—­never attempt to persuade any foreigner that we can be driven to extremes where their laws do not apply to us—­are not good for us—­goad a subjected people till their madness is pardonable.  Nor shall I dream of persuading you that Angelo did right in defending her from that man.”

“I maintain that there are laws applicable to all human creatures,” said the duchess.  “You astonish me when you speak compassionately of such a criminal.”

“No; not of such a criminal, of such an unfortunate youth, and my countryman, when every hand is turned against him, and all tongues are reviling him.  But let Angelo pass; I pray to heaven he may escape.  All who are worth anything in our country are strained in every fibre, and it’s my trick to be half in love with anyone of them when he is persecuted.  I fancy he is worth more than the others, and is simply luckless.  You must make allowances for us, Amalia—­pity captive Judah!”

“I think, my Laura, you will never be satisfied till I have ceased to be Babylonian,” said the duchess, smiling and fondling Vittoria, to whom she said, “Am I not a complaisant German?”