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This reflection was infinitely comforting to the much-enduring cavaliere. It lightened also much of his apprehension in approaching the marchesa, as the bearer of the count's refusal. To Trenta's question as to "whether he had done," Marescotti had promptly replied with easy courtesy, "Certainly, if you desire it.
His voice came thick, struggling with sobs. "Can you see that unmoved, Count Nobili?" Trenta pointed to the retreating figure of Fra Pacifico bearing Enrica in his arms. At the sound of Trenta's voice, Count Nobili started and turned around. Enrica had already disappeared. "You will soon give her another bridegroom he will not leave her as you have done that bridegroom will be Death!
Orsetti rushes off to the next room, where Teresa Ottolini is waiting for him, with a look of gentle reproach in her sleepy eyes, where lies the hidden fire. Meanwhile Cavaliere Trenta's white head, immaculate blue coat and gold buttons to which coat were attached several orders had been seen hovering about from chair to chair through the rooms.
By the body of my holy ancestor, San Riccardo, I will disgrace you publicly disgrace you!" Trenta's rosy face had grown purple, his lips worked convulsively. He raised his stick, and flourished it in the air, as if about to make it descend like a truncheon on Baldassare's shoulders. Adonis drew back a step or two, following with his eyes the cavaliere's movements.
Now he no longer strode up and down the room, but he has seated himself opposite the cavaliere, and again his speaking eyes have wandered off toward the book which he has been reading. It is evident he is mentally resuming the same train of thought Trenta's entrance had interrupted. Trenta feels therefore that he must begin.
"What is known?" asked Trenta, hoarsely, standing suddenly motionless, the flush of rage dying out of his countenance, and a look of helpless suffering taking its place. "That Count Nobili loves Enrica Guinigi," answered Marescotti, abruptly. Like a shot Baldassare's words rose to Trenta's remembrance. The poor old chamberlain turned very white.
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?
And seeing that Marescotti drew back toward the window, the cavaliere pressed closer upon him, stamped his foot upon the floor, and raised his clinched fist as near to the count's face as his height permitted. Had the official sword hung at Trenta's side, he would undoubtedly have drawn it at that moment and attacked him. In the defense of Enrica he forgot his age he forgot every thing.
With his elbow resting on the arm of the chair on which he sits, the count passes his other hand from time to time slowly to and fro across his forehead, pushing back the disordered curls that fall upon it. "To restore and to continue an illustrious race to unite yourself with a lovely girl just bursting into womanhood." Trenta's voice quivers as he says this.
Trenta's benignant face had gradually assumed as severe an aspect as it was capable of bearing. He pointed to Enrica, of whom he had up to this time taken no notice beyond a friendly smile the marchesa did not like Enrica to be noticed now he pointed to her, and shook his head deprecatingly.
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