"They want me to marry Bosio," she said, and then drew breath, holding
both of Bianca's hands and looking into her eyes.

"You? Marry Bosio Macomer? Oh! no--Veronica--no!"

Bianca's voice expressed the greatest apprehension, for Veronica was
almost her only intimate friend. Veronica seemed surprised.

"Why not?" she asked. "That is, if I wished to. Why do you speak in that
way? Do you know anything about him which I do not know? You must have
some reason."

Bianca's exquisite face grew calm and grave, and she looked away, and
waited some seconds before she spoke. The sins of the earth were
familiar to her before her time, and suffering and the payment. But
Veronica was a child.

"It seems unfitting," she said quietly. "He is almost like your uncle.
Of course, one may marry one's uncle--but he is too old for you, dear.
And, after all, with your name, and all you have--"

"But I like Bosio," answered Veronica, simply. "He is always good to me.
I talk with him a great deal. And he is really not old, though his hair
is a little grey. I think I would perhaps rather have him just for a
friend, instead of a husband. But then, he would be both. I do not know
what to do, so I came to you for advice."

"Why do you not marry Gianluca della Spina?" asked Bianca, suddenly.