“There!  I knew these reports were abase calumny.”

“Reports, to what effect?” said Anna.

“That Carlo Ammiani had slunk from a combat with your duellist.”

“Oh!  I knew that myself,” Anna remarked.

“You were the loudest in proclaiming it.”

“Because I intend to ruin him.”

“Carlo Ammiani?  What has he done to you?”

Anna’s eyes had fallen on the additional lines of the letter which she had not dictated.  She frowned and exclaimed: 

“What is this?  Does the man play me false?  Read those lines, Lena, and tell me, does the man mean to fight in earnest who can dare to write them?  He advises Ammiani to go to Venice.  It’s treason, if it is not cowardice.  And see here—­he has the audacity to say that he deeply respects the lady Ammiani is going to marry.  Is Ammiani going to marry her?  I think not.”

Anna dashed the letter to the floor.

“But I will make use of what’s within my reach,” she said, picking it up.

“Carlo Ammiani will marry her, I presume,” said Lena.

“Not before he has met Captain Weisspriess, who, by the way, has obtained his majority.  And, Lena, my dear, write to inform him that we wish to offer him our congratulations.  He will be a General officer in good time.”

“Perhaps you forget that Count Ammiani is a perfect swordsman, Anna.”

“Weisspriess remembers it for me, perhaps;—­is that your idea, Lena?”

“He might do so profitably.  You have thrown him on two swords.”

“Merely to provoke the third.  He is invincible.  If he were not, where would his use be?”

“Oh, how I loathe revenge!” cried Lena.

“You cannot love!” her sister retorted.  “That woman calling herself Vittoria Campa shall suffer.  She has injured and defied me.  How was it that she behaved to us at Meran?  She is mixed up with assassins; she is insolent—­a dark-minded slut; and she catches stupid men.  My brother, my country, and this weak Weisspriess, as I saw him lying in the Ultenthal, cry out against her.  I have no sleep.  I am not revengeful.  Say it, say it, all of you! but I am not.  I am not unforgiving.  I worship justice, and a black deed haunts me.  Let the wicked be contrite and washed in tears, and I think I can pardon them.  But I will have them on their knees.  I hate that woman Vittoria more than I hate Angelo Guidascarpi.  Look, Lena.  If both were begging for life to me, I would send him to the gallows and her to her bedchamber; and all because I worship justice, and believe it to be the weapon of the good and pious.  You have a baby’s heart; so has Karl.  He declines to second Weisspriess; he will have nothing to do with duelling; he would behold his sisters mocked in the streets and pass on.  He talks of Paul’s death like a priest.  Priests are worthy men; a great resource!  Give me a priests lap when I need it.  Shall I be condemned to go to the priest