Then suddenly,
with a bound, he sprang from his chair, and away from it, and beat
his head against the opposite wall of the large room.
"Fool, fool; enslaved, besotted idiot! I am lost, spelled; the
victim of sorcery I cannot fight against. What am I to do, what am I
to do? Surely I can keep my steps from going near her. If I were to
swear now that I will never set eyes on her more?"
And then he recollected that it was impossible for him even to seek
that means of safety without giving rise to all kinds of
observations, and wonder, and speculation in the city. He was to see
the prima donna on the following day. His habits in such matters,
well known to all the town, brought him into frequent contact with
Bianca, as with other ladies who had been similarly engaged in
Ravenna. What would be thought, or guessed, or said, if he were
suddenly to refuse to hold any further communication with her?
And would he not thus be simply leaving the coast all free to his
nephew? To be sure. There, there, he could see it all. And that was
the worst hell of all. Anything, anything was preferable to that.
Come what would that should never, never, never be. Rather--rather
anything. He gnashed his teeth, and clenched his hand; and a sudden
agony of hatred for both Bianca and his nephew seemed to steal like
a snake into his heart, and maddened him.
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