"I will," said Bosio, absently, "I will--as soon as--" He checked
himself and glanced nervously at Taquisara.

"As soon as you yourself have decided," said the latter, quietly. "I
think I understand. Your brother and the countess feel quite sure of the
fact, as though it had already taken place, but for some reason which
does not concern me, you yourself are not so certain of the result. To
be plain, there is still a possibility that the marriage may not take
place. I need not tell you that in speaking to Gianluca I shall be very
careful not to raise any false hopes in his mind. But I am exceedingly
indebted to you for being so honourably frank with me."

Taquisara repressed a smile at his own words as he rose from his seat,
for he was very far from wishing to offend Bosio. The latter rose, too,
and looked at him with a dazed, uncertain expression, like a man not
quite sure of being in his senses. He put out his hand mechanically,
without speaking, and a moment later he was alone with the horror of his
desperate difficulty.

The Sicilian descended the stairs slowly, and paused to look out of one
of the big windows at a landing, which offered nothing in the way of a
view but an almost blank wall on the other side of the narrow street. He
did not know what to do next, and yet, being eminently a man of action,
rather than of reflexion, he knew that he must do more to satisfy
himself, for his suspicions were aroused. He had expected to find Bosio
jubilant. From what he had seen, he had understood well enough that
there was some mysterious trouble. He could not hope to extort any
information from Macomer or his wife, and he had no means of reaching
Veronica, nor could he have asked direct questions if he had succeeded