a question, and I answered you. That is all."

Baldassare had dressed himself with great care; his hair was
exquisitely curled for the occasion. He had nothing to do all day, and
the prospect of returning home was most depressing.

"You are not answerable for being born a fool!" was the rejoinder. "I
grant that. Who told Malatesta?" asked the cavaliere, turning sharply
toward Baldassare.

"He said he had heard it in many quarters. He insisted on having heard
it from one who had seen them together."

(Old Carlotta, sitting in her shop-door at the corner of the street of
San Simone, like an evil spider in its web, could have answered that
question.)

The cavaliere was still standing on the same spot, in the centre of
the street.

"Baldassare," he said, addressing him more calmly, "this is a wicked
calumny. The marchesa must not hear it. Upon reflection, I shall not
notice it. Malatesta is a chattering fool--an ape! I dare say he was
tipsy when he said it. But, as you value my protection, swear to
me not to repeat one word of all this. If you hear it mentioned,
contradict it--flatly contradict it, on my authority--the authority
of the Marchesa Guinigi's oldest friend. Nobili will marry Nera
Boccarini, and there will be an end of it; and Enrica--yes,
Baldassare," continued the cavaliere, with an air of immense
dignity--"yes, to prove to you how ridiculous this report is, Enrica