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Updated: June 18, 2025
How little you read my heart!" He holds her soft hands firmly in his he covers them with kisses. Enrica feels the tender pressure of his lips pass through her whole frame. But, can she trust him? "Did I not love you enough?" she asks, looking into his face. She gently disengages her hands from his grasp. There is no reproach in her look, but infinite sorrow. "Can I believe you?"
"See how the sun of New Italy lights up the old city! Cathedral, palace, church, gallery, roof, tower, all ablaze at our feet! Speak, tell me, is it not wonderful?" and he turned to Enrica, who, anxiously turning from side to side, was trying to discover where she could best overlook the street of San Simone and Nobili's palace. Addressed by Marescotti, she started and stopped short.
She was informed that Count Nobili was distractedly in love with the signorina, and addressed himself to her for help. Teresa, ignorant, well-meaning, and brimming over with that mere animal fondness for her foster-child uneducated women share with brute creatures, was proud of becoming the medium of what she considered an advantageous marriage for Enrica.
The suspense was becoming intolerable to her. "Refuse to marry him? Refuse Nobili? No, no, I can refuse Nobili nothing," answered Enrica, dreamily. "But he will not come! he is gone forever!" "He will come," insisted the marchesa, pushing her advantage skillfully. "But will he love me?" asked the tender young voice. "Will he believe that I love him? Oh, tell me that! Father Pacifico, help me!
"This is not a fair question," interrupted Fra Pacifico, coming to the rescue of the distressed Enrica, who sat speechless before her terrible aunt. "I know she still loves him. The love of a heart like hers is not to be destroyed by such a letter as that, and the unjust accusations it contains." Fra Pacifico pointed with his finger to Nobili's letter lying where he had placed it on the table.
She had so fortified herself against all signs of outward emotion, other than she chose to show, that even in solitude she was composed; but the veins swelled in her forehead, and she turned very white. Yet there had been a way. "Enrica" her name escaped the marchesa's thin lips unwittingly. "Enrica." The sound of her own voice startled her. "Enrica."
Alarmed as he is, Guglielmi cannot resist one parting glance at Enrica. She is crimson. Then with an expression of infinite relief he retreats to the door walking backward. Guglielmi has a strong conviction that if he turns round Count Nobili may kick him, so, keeping his eyes well balanced upon him, he fumbles with his hands behind his back to find the handle of the door.
As each sentence fell from the priest's lips his countenance grew sterner. "Accepts the separation! Gives me up!" exclaimed Nobili, quite taken aback. "So much the better. We are both of the same mind." But, spite his words, there were irritation and surprise in Nobili's manner. That Enrica herself should have consented to part from him was altogether an astonishment!
A flash of fire lit up the depths of the count's dark eyes, and there was a tone of melting tenderness in his rich voice as he spoke of Enrica. Then he relapsed into his former weary manner the manner of a man pronouncing his own death-warrant. "Of the unspeakable honor you have done me, as has also the excellent Marchesa Guinigi it does not become me to speak. Believe me, I feel it profoundly."
"O my aunt," Enrica cried, springing to her feet, "how can I look Nobili in the face after that letter? He thinks I have deceived him." Enrica stopped; the words seemed to choke her. With an imploring look, she turned toward Fra Pacifico. Without knowing what she did Enrica flung herself on the floor at his feet; she clasped his knees she turned her beseeching eyes into his.
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