Her forehead showed distress of mind; she wanted Laura’s counsel.

“Wilfrid, do you know the whole story?”

“I know that he inveigled Count Paul to his house and slew him; either he or his brother, or both.”

“I have been with him for days, Wilfrid.  I believe that he would do no dishonourable thing.  He is related——­“.

“He is the cousin of Count Ammiani.”

“Ah! would you plunge us in misery?”

“How?”

“Count Ammiani is my lover.”

She uttered it unblushingly, and with tender eyes fixed on him.

“Your lover!” he exclaimed, with vile emphasis.

“He will be my husband,” she murmured, while the mounting hot colour burned at her temples.

“Changed—­who is changed?” he said, in a vehement underneath.  “For that reason I am to be false to her who does me the honour to care for me!”

“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.