May the devil give him his due! But, bambina mia,
there are wretches of governors here too, it is to be feared, no
less infamous."
"What do you mean? What did we come here then for?" cried Bianca,
rearing herself on her elbow on the sofa, and looking at her old
friend with wide-opened eyes of angry surprise.
"In the first place, cara mia, because it was necessary to go
somewhere; and, in the second place, because I should be very much
at a loss to name any place where the governors are not infamous
wretches, every whit as bad as at Milan. 'Tis the way of them, my
poor child. But you see, Bianca dear, to return to what we were
saying, there was a little mistake at Milan. The Duca di Lodi did
not go off into the country, and leave you plantee la, to please
himself."
"Who ever thought he did? No, poor fellow, he was right enough. But
what was the mistake, I want to know?"
"You could bring no influence to bear, except upon himself, you
know."
"Of course not. How should I? E poi?"
"And he could not do as he pleased," said Quinto, with a slight
shrug of his shoulders. "That was the mistake, cara mia, to
endeavour to bring about an object, by influencing some one who had
no power to act for themselves in the matter."
"A very pleasant Job's comforter you are to-night, Quinto. I don't
know what you are driving at?" said Bianca, staring at him.
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