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The old cavaliere nodded his head, round which the little curls set faultlessly under his white hat. "My dear Count Nobili, permit me to offer my advice. You must settle this matter at once at once, I say;" and Trenta struck his stick upon the marble balustrade for greater emphasis. "I quite agree with you," put in Fra Pacifico in his deep voice.
As Nobili bore her up on his strong arm, pacing up and down among the flowering trees that, bowing in the light breeze, shed gaudy petals at their feet Nobili looked so strong, and resolute, and bold his eyes had such a power in them as he gazed down proudly upon her that the tears which trembled upon Enrica's eyelids disappeared. Nobili's strength came to her as her own strength.
"Then I am satisfied," replied Ruspoli, quiet defiance in his look and tone. "I accuse you, Signore Orazio Franchi, of nothing. I only warn you." "I don't see why we should quarrel about Nobili's marriage. He will be here himself presently, to explain which of the ladies he prefers," observed the peaceable Orsetti. "I don't know which lady Count Nobili prefers," retorted Ruspoli, doggedly.
The beggar, seizing the gold-piece, blesses him, and hopes that "Heaven will render to him according to his merits." Other beggars, from every corner, are about to rush upon him; but Nobili deftly escapes from these as he had escaped from the Marchesa Boccarini and her daughters, and is gone.
Nobili opened both his arms. His eyes clung wildly to hers. She was his only hope. Nera did not move; only she turned her head away to hide her face from him. She dared not let Nobili move her. Poor Nobili! She could have loved him dearly! Seeing her thus, Nobili's arms dropped to his side hopelessly; a wan look came over his face. "Forgive me! Oh, forgive me, Nera!
Nobili rose from the divan on which he had been lying, lighted some candles, and, sitting down at a table, took a pen in his hand. But the pen did not help him. He tore it between his teeth, he leaned his head upon his hand, he stared at the blank paper before him. What should he say to her? was the question he asked himself.
Enrica would be waiting for him. Could Nobili yearn so fondly for Enrica and she not know it? Could the mystic bond that knit them together, from the first moment they had met, leave her unconscious of his presence? No; that subtile charm that draws lovers together, and breathes from heart to heart the sacred fire, had warned her.
But heretofore there had been no question of her marriage. Although she was seventeen, she had always been treated as a mere child. She scarcely dared to speak in her aunt's presence, or to address a question to her. Her love, then, she thought, was her own to bestow; but more? No, no even to Nobili. He urged, he entreated, he reproached her, but in vain.
"The cavaliere is not yet returned." "This is a strange story," said Orsetti, gravely. "Nobili too, and Marescotti. She must be a lively damsel. What will Nera Boccarini say to her truant knight, who rescues maidens accidentally on distant mountains? What had Nobili to do in the Garfagnana?" "Ask him," lisped Orazio; "it will save more talking.
There was a determination about Nera, a power of eye and tongue, an exuberance of sensuous youth, that repelled while it allured him. It was like new wine, luscious to the taste, but strong and heavy. New wine is very intoxicating. Nobili loved Enrica. At that moment every woman that did not in some subtile way remind him of her, was distasteful to him.