Enrica, too, had fixed her eyes upon her beseechingly; Enrica
evidently wanted to go. The marchesa had already opened her lips to
give an abrupt refusal, when she felt a warning hand laid upon her
arm. Again she was shaken in her purpose of refusal. She rose, and
approached the card-table.

"I shall take time to consider," she replied to the inquiring eyes
awaiting her reply.

The marchesa took up the pack of cards and examined the markers.
She was debating with herself what Trenta could possibly mean by his
extraordinary conduct, _twice_ repeated.

"You had better retire now," she said to Enrica, with an expression of
hostility her niece knew too well. "You have listened to quite enough
folly for one night. Men are flatterers."

"Not I! not I!" cried Marescotti. "I never say any thing but what I
mean."

And he flew toward the door in order to open it before Enrica could
reach it.

"All good angels guard you!" he whispered, with a tender voice, into
her ear, as, greatly confused, she passed by him, into the anteroom.
"May you find all men as true as I! Per Dio! she is the living
image of the young Madonna!" he added, half aloud, gazing after her.
"Countenance, manner, air--it is perfect!"