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Updated: June 18, 2025
I cannot think." Enrica pressed her hands to her forehead. She had suffered so much, now that the crisis had come she was stunned, she had no power to decide. "Dare I marry him? Ought we to part forever?" A flush gathered on her cheek, an ineffable longing shone from her eyes.
But if any thing lurks there that mocks Pipa's mirth, it is not visible to Pipa's outward eye, so she continues addressing herself to Enrica, who is utterly bewildered by her strange ways. Pipa cannot bear to think that Enrica never dressed for her betrothed. "Poverina!" she says to her, "not dress not dress! What degradation!
"Oh!" cried Enrica, "give me that paper, I know it will tell me my fate. Give it to me. Count, do not refuse me." Her look, her manner, was eager imploring. As the count drew back, she endeavored to seize the paper from his hand. But Marescotti, holding the paper above his head, in one moment had crushed it in his fingers, and, rushing forward, he flung it over the battlements.
He was ignorant of much which was known to the cavaliere. Fra Pacifico watched his excessive agitation with grave curiosity. "What does this mean about Count Marescotti?" he asked, somewhat sternly. "What has Count Marescotti to do with her?" As he asked this question he stretched his arm authoritatively over Enrica. Protection to the weak was the first thought of the strong man.
There are many considerations that will doubtless present themselves to you as necessary ingredients of this decision. If Enrica goes into religion, the Guinigi race is doomed. Why should you, with your own hand, destroy the work of your life? If Enrica will not consent to renounce her engagement to Count Nobili, why should she not marry him? There is no real obstacle other than your will."
As he speaks he leans over her. Love is in his voice his eyes his whole attitude. Would she not understand him? Would she reject him? Enrica draws back she raises her hand in protest. "Let me again" Nobili is following her closely "let me implore your forgiveness of my unmanly conduct." She presses her hands to her bosom as if in pain, but not a sound comes to her lips.
"I will not put Enrica out of my house," resumed the marchesa, gazing at him suspiciously. She had noticed this interest once before. She did not like it. What was Enrica to him? You can inform her of this, as you have taken already so much upon yourself. Do you hear?" "Certainly, certainly," answered the chamberlain with alacrity. "You shall be obeyed.
You love is it possible that you love ?" He stopped before the question was finished before the name was uttered. A spasm, as if wrung from him by sharp bodily pain, passed over his features as he asked this question, never destined to be answered. No one but Enrica had heard it. An indescribable terror seized her; from pale she grew deadly white; her eyelids dropped, her lips trembled.
Yet if Enrica were as guileless as she seemed, how could she conceal from him she had another lover less loved perhaps than he but still a lover? And this lover had refused to marry her? That was the stab. That every one in Lucca should know his future bride had been scouted by another man who had turned a rhyme upon her, and left her! Could he bear this?
Poor Enrica, feeling as if a curse were on her, cutting her off from all her former life, shrinks back deeper into the corner of the carriage, draws the black veil closer about her face, and sobs aloud. The marchesa turns her head away. The driver cracks his long whip over the steaming horses, which move feebly forward with a jerk.
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