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Updated: June 29, 2025
How well a golden glory would become that sunny head! She only wanted wings, he thought, to make an angel of her. Enrica's face was bent. Her thoughts, far away, were lost in a delicious world, neither earth nor heaven a world with Nobili! What mysteries were there, what unknown joys, or sharper pains perchance, she neither knew nor cared. She would share all with him!
The marchesa was brought down by Adamo. Your name was the first word she uttered." Enrica's blue eyes glistened. In an instant she had disengaged herself from Pipa, and was kneeling at the marchesa's feet. "Dear aunt, forgive me. Now that I am saved, forgive me! You must forgive me, and forgive him, too!" These last words came faint and low. The marchesa put her finger on her lip.
By this time, Fra Pacifico thinks, unless choked, the stranger must be near the upper story. The marchesa has now risen. She stands upright, her eyes riveted on the tower. She knows there is a door that opens from the top of the winding stair, on the highest story, next Enrica's room, a door out on the battlements. Will the stranger see it?
A sweet smile of ineffable happiness stole over Enrica's soft face. The marchesa, still holding her hand, uttered something which might almost be called a sigh. "I hope this will last, else " She broke off abruptly. Enrica, resenting the implied doubt, disengaged her hand, and drew back from her.
In the warmth of speech the marchesa had been actually led into the confession that Nobili was necessary to her "I have the contract," she added. "Thank Heaven, I have the contract! Nobili is legally bound by the contract." "Yes, that may be," answered Fra Pacifico, reflectively, "if you choose to force him. But I warn you that I will put no violence on Enrica's feelings.
In your presence too, as priest and civil delegate; and you talk of sacrilege, my father! Che! che! Dio buono!" she exclaimed, losing all self-control in the conviction her own argument brought to her "Fra Pacifico, you must be mad!" "I only ask for Enrica's consent," answered the priest. "That given, if Count Nobili comes, I will consent to marry them."
Enrica's conscience acquitted her of any wrong save the wrong of concealment, "Had you asked me," she adds, more timidly, "I should have spoken. You have asked me now, and I have told you." The very spirit of truth spoke in Enrica. Not even the marchesa could doubt her. Enrica had not disgraced the name she bore. She believed her; but there was a sting behind sharper to her than death.
Enrica's eyes languidly followed the direction of his hand. The cavaliere, standing on his other side, was adjusting his spectacles, the better to distinguish the distance. "To the south," continued the count, pointing with his finger "in the centre of that rich vine-trellised Campagna, lies Pescia, a garden of luscious fruits.
Seeing the letter, Enrica started back and shivered. "Is it not so, Enrica?" The little blond head and the sad blue eyes bowed themselves gently in response. A faint smile flitted across Enrica's face. Fra Pacifico had spoken all her mind, which she in her weakness could not have done, especially with her aunt's dark eyes riveted upon her. "Then you still love Count Nobili?"
Enrica trod lightly across the stuccoed floor to where her aunt was standing; then she stopped and waited for her to address her. The marchesa took Enrica's hand within her own for some minutes, and silently stroked each rosy finger. "My child Enrica, are you content?" This question was accompanied by an inquiring look, as if she would read Enrica through and through.
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