"
"But why? What is she to you?" reiterated the old man.
"You asked me, just now, what I wanted. I want, if you must know,
what I can never have--what the Venetian girl last night was
getting."
"And what was she getting? I don't understand you, upon my soul!"
said Quinto, staring at her, and utterly puzzled.
"What was she getting? Love!--that was what she was getting!
Ludovico loves her," said Bianca, raising herself on her elbow, and
speaking with fierce bitterness.
"Tu, tu, tu, tu, tu, tu!" whistled Quinto, between his pursed-up
lips. "But I thought, bambina mia, that you were going to love the
Marchese Lamberto, and be a good wife to him, and all the rest of
it, according to the rules and practices of the best-regulated
domestic family circles; and I--I was so rejoiced to hear it," said
the old reprobate, casting up his eyes and hands.
"Don't, Quinto; don't talk in that manner, or you'll drive me beyond
myself. I can't bear it."
"But did you not say that you loved the Marchese Lamberto?"
persisted Quinto, dropping his mocking tone, however.
"I said that I liked him better than any of the men I have known;
that I admired him as a fine and noble gentleman; that I would be a
good and true wife to him,--and should love him," she added, with a
burst of bitterness, "better than he ever will, or can, love me.
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