But the old man dreaded doing so more than
he could have himself believed that he could have feared any similar
duty.
In truth, the condition of the Marchese Lamberto was pitiable.
He would see no one, save Fortini; but he was most anxious for his
visits--very naturally anxious to hear from day to day, and almost
from hour to hour, how matters were going--whether any new
circumstances had been discovered; what change there was in the
probabilities as to the final judgment respecting the crime; and
there was a restless feverishness in his anxiety, a shattered
condition of the nervous system that made the lawyer seriously fear
that the Marchese's reason would sink under the strain.
He had again and again urged him to allow a medical man to see him;
and had once mentioned the Marchese's old friend Professor
Tomosarchi. But the irritated violence with which the suffering man
had rejected the proposal, had been such as to lead the lawyer to
think that he should be doing more harm than good by reiterating it.
It was not surprising, indeed, that the Marchese should be utterly
beaten down and vanquished by the misfortunes that had fallen upon
him; they attacked him from such various and opposite sides. His
love for Bianca--or, let me say (in order to satisfy readers who are
wont to weigh the real meaning of words as well as those who are in
the habit of taking them unexamined at their current value), his
longing to possess her--was genuine and intense.
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