He was a
handsome devil--something like you, but shorter, with a bad eye. I am
glad I killed him."
Spicca had looked steadily at Orsino while speaking. When he ceased, he
began to walk about the small room with something of his old energy.
Orsino roused himself. He had almost begun to forget his own position in
the interest of listening to the count's short story.
"So much for Aranjuez," said Spicca. "Let us hear no more of him. As for
this mad plan of yours, you are convinced, I suppose, and you will give
it up. Go home and decide in the morning. For my part, I tell you it is
useless. She will not marry you. Therefore leave her alone and do
nothing which can injure her."
"I am not convinced," answered Orsino doggedly.
"Then you are not your father's son. No Saracinesca that I ever knew
would do what you mean to do--would wantonly tarnish the good name of a
woman--of a woman who loves him too--and whose only fault is that she
cannot marry him."
"That she will not."
"That she cannot.
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