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Updated: June 25, 2025
Trenta had urged the marriage with Count Nobili. But Trenta urged every marriage. Could she consent to such a marriage? Own herself ruined wrong? Feel Nobili's foot upon her neck? Impossible! Her obstinacy was so great, that she could not bring herself to yield, though all that made life dear was slipping from her grasp. Yes yes, it was too late. The thing was done.
Count Nobili's father filled in a blank check which a client had incautiously left in his hands, to an enormous amount, or something of that kind, I believe. I refused to notice this circumstance legally, feeling sure that we were strong enough without it. I was also sure that giving publicity to such a fact would only prejudice the position of the future husband of the marchesa's niece.
Heavy vapors creep up from the earth and obscure the air. Darker and denser clouds cover the heavens. Black shadows gather within the room. The bed looms out from the lighter walls like a funeral catafalque. A few pale gleams of light still linger on the horizon. These fall upon Nobili's figure as he stands framed in the window.
Such a black frown clouded Nobili's countenance under the sting of her covert insults that Trenta hastily interposed. "Permit me to remind you, Marchesa Guinigi, that, subject to your approval, the conditions of the marriage have been already arranged by me and Fra Pacifico, before you consented to meet Count Nobili. The present interview is purely formal.
Last night's work only made the gift public," was Nobili's reply. There was a tone of triumph in Nobili's voice as he said this. He stooped and pressed his lips to Enrica's hand. Enrica stood by with downcast eyes a spray of pink oleander swaying from the terrace-wall in the light breeze above her head, for background.
She sighs deeply. There is the old charm in Nobili's voice so sweet, so subtile. The tones fall upon her ear like strains of passionate music. A storm of emotion sweeps across her face. She has forgotten all in the rapture of his presence. Yes! that voice! Had it not been raised but a few hours before at the altar to repudiate her? How can she believe in him?
Nobili's eyes flash. He, too, forgets all else, and, with a glance that thrills Enrica from head to foot, he kisses her before them all. The men circle round him. They shout louder than before. As the crowd parted, the dark figure of the marchesa, standing near the fountain, was disclosed. Before she had time to stir, Count Nobili had led Enrica to her.
Sometimes her lips parted, and a smile rippled over her face; then she shuddered, and drew herself, as it were, together. All this time Nobili's letter was within her hand; her fingers tightened over it with a convulsive grasp. Pipa and the cavaliere were with her. They had done all they could to revive her, but without effect.
"I am to be Count Nobili's wife," Enrica says at last, in a faltering voice. "The Holy Mother is my witness, I have done nothing wrong. I have met him in the cathedral, and at the door of the Moorish garden. He has written to me, and I have answered." "Doubtless; and you have met him alone?" asked the marchesa, with a savage sneer. "Never, my aunt; Teresa was always with me." "Teresa, curse her!
He puts his hand to his forehead, where the veins had swollen out like cords upon his fair skin. He puts up his hands to shade his dazzled eyes before which clouds of stars dance desperately. He steadies himself and looks round. Before him stands Enrica! By Pipa's care the bridegroom's chamber had been chosen next the bride's when she prepared Count Nobili's room.
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