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Updated: June 2, 2025
"That is quite possible," continued Orazio, with a cynical smile. "To tell you the truth, I did not think you had heard it. It only happened half an hour ago." "What happened?" asked Count Orsetti. "A secret commission has been sent from Rome." There was a breathless silence. "The government is alarmed. A secret commission to examine Count Marescotti's papers, and to imprison him."
He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he did not perceive them. "I must speak to him as soon as possible about Enrica," was Trenta's thought on seeing him. "With this report going about, there is not an hour to lose." "You have kept your appointment punctually, count," he said, laying his hand on Marescotti's shoulder. "Punctual, my dear cavaliere?
As she gave him no answer, he asked another question, gazing down upon her earnestly: "How did Count Marescotti come to know what your eyes said?" As Nobili spoke, his voice sounded changed. He waited for an answer with a look as if he had been wronged. Enrica's answer did not come immediately. She felt frightened. "Oh! why," she thought, "had she mentioned Marescotti's name?"
Fra Pacifico took both Enrica's hands in his, drew an arm-chair forward, and placed her in it. "Enrica, I have sent for you to ask you a question," the marchesa spoke. At the sound of her aunt's voice, Enrica shuddered visibly. Was it not, after all, the marchesa's fault that Nobili had left her? Why had the marchesa thrown her into Count Marescotti's company?
Tears gathered in Marescotti's eyes as he gazed at her, but he dared not complete the question. "If you have guessed my secret, do not oh! do not betray me!" She said this so faintly that the sound came to him like a whisper from the rustling bay-leaves. "Never!" he responded in a low, earnest tone "never!" She believed him implicitly. With that look, that voice, who could doubt him?
The Madonna figured prominently in Marescotti's creed, spite of his belief in the stern precepts of Savonarola the plastic creed of an artist, made up of heavenly eyes, ravishing forms, melodious sounds, rich color, sweeping rhythms, moonlight, and violent emotions. "I was not there myself no, or I should have been aware you had not honored the Countess Orsetti with your presence.
Again the stout little cavaliere stops to take breath, under evident agitation; then he draws himself up, and turns his face toward the count. As Trenta proceeds, Marescotti's brow is overclouded with thought a haggard expression now spreads over his features. His eyes are turned downward on the floor, else the cavaliere might have seen that their brilliancy is dimmed by rising tears.
Excited by the grandeur of the service, Marescotti's usually pale face is suffused with color; his large black eyes shine with inner lights. Looking neither to the right nor to the left, he walks through the atrium, straight down the marble steps, into the piazza. As he passes the three women they draw back against the wall. There is a dignity about Marescotti that involuntarily awes them.
Remember there is nothing proved. Be careful," Orsetti whispered in the other's ear, glancing round. Every eye was riveted on Nobili. Orsetti felt that Nobili had forgotten the public place and the others present such as Count Malatesta, Orazio Franchi, and Baldassare, who, though they had not spoken, had devoured every word. "It is nothing but a sonnet found among Marescotti's papers."
"He's gone," continued Orazio, falling back exhausted on his chair, "but his papers " Here Franchi thought it right to pause and faintly wink. "I'll tell you the rest when I have smoked a cigar. Give me a light." "No, no, you must smoke afterward," said Orsetti, rapping him smartly on the back. "Go on what about Marescotti's papers?"
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