"
"Well, come now, bambina mia. If you think that the Marchese is not
enough in love with you, you must have a strong appetite, indeed,
and be very hard to content. Why, if there ever was a man thoroughly
caught, fascinated--"
"Bah! Love! Ludovico loves the Venetian," said Bianca, with an
expressive emphasis on the verb.
"Ludovico, again! I protest I don't understand you, Bianca. But
there, when a man has come to my age he don't expect ever to
understand a woman. You did not want Ludovico, as you call him, to
love you, did you?"
"No: but--"
And Bianca stopped short, and seemed to fall into a sort of reverie.
"But what? If you mean that you wanted to have the uncle for a
husband, and the nephew for a lover, that is intelligible enough.
The game would have been a dangerous one. But there is no reason why
you should not say it plainly between friends."
"I tell you, Quinto, I won't hear you speak to me in that tone,"
said Bianca, turning on him fiercely, and with flashing eyes. "Did I
ever do anything to attract him?" she added,--"did I try to make him
love me? Do you think that the Venetian would have stood in the way
if I had chosen to do so? I never did! I meant, if the Marchese
would make me his wife, to be true and loyal to him; though he
himself seems to think it impossible that I should be so.
Pages:
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376