“Certainly not, Signor Marchese.  Certainly not.  But the exception is an important one.  You will have to answer for the wisdom of your resolution to yourself,” rejoined Fortini, drily.

“That, Signor Fortini, is my affair.  As I told you, I have considered the matter well; and I have made up my mind.”

“May I ask, Signor Marchese, whether your intention has been communicated to your nephew?” asked the lawyer.

“As yet I have announced it to no one save yourself.  As soon as the necessary arrangements with regard to matters of property have been determined on, it will be the fitting time to do so.”

“Before any word can be said on that head, of course, it is necessary that your lordship should mention, what you have not yet confided to me,—­the name of the lady with whom you are about to ally yourself.”

“Of course; and it is for the purpose of doing so that I have requested your presence here this morning, Signor Fortini.  Before naming the lady, I will merely remark to you, that a man at my time of life may be expected to know his own mind, and has a right to please himself.  And bearing these remarks in mind, you will understand that I do not wish to hear any observations on the subject of the choice I have made.  My choice is made; and that is sufficient.”

The Marchese looked up into the lawyer’s face, and paused for some reply to these preliminary observations before proceeding to tell his secret; but the lawyer maintained a look and attitude of silent expectation.

“It is my intention,” proceeded the Marchese, “to marry the Signora Bianca Lalli;—­the lady whose conduct, as well as her talent, has won the good opinion of the entire city.”

The old lawyer flung down on the table, with a clatter, a paper-knife which he had taken into his hand while speaking, and rising abruptly from his chair, took one or two turns across the room before he answered a word.  Then coming in front of the Marchese, and still continuing to stand, he said,

“You have warned me, Signor Marchese, not to make any remarks on the communication you have just made to me.  There is one, however, which perforce I must make.  It is that I must decline to take any instructions, or to act in any way, for the forwarding of such a purpose.”

“There are other attorneys in Ravenna, Signor Fortini.”

“Plenty, Signor Marchese; plenty who will be abundantly ready to do your bidding.  But Giovacchino Fortini will not.  Good heaven!  I should expect to have my dear and honoured old friend and patron, your father, coming out of his grave to upbraid me.  Signor Marchese, you know right well—­as well as I do myself—­that at this time of day, I don’t care two straws, as a mere matter of gain, whether I continue to be honoured with the transaction of your legal affairs or not.  But I do care on other grounds.  And I do implore you to believe that I am speaking to you more as a friend than as a lawyer;—­that I am speaking to you as the whole city would speak, and will speak when it hears of this—­this incredible—­this monstrous notion,—­when I entreat you to think yet further on this most disastrous purpose.”