which is to say, that his manners could be bad. Count Lenkenstein was
accompanied by Count Serabiglione, who brought Laura's children with
their Roman nurse, Assunta. Laura kissed her little ones, and sent them
out of her sight. Vittoria found her home in their play and prattle.
She needed a refuge, for Count Lenkenstein was singularly brutal in his
bearing toward her. He let her know that he had come to Meran to
superintend the hunt for the assassin, Angelo Guidascarpi. He attempted
to exact her promise in precise speech that she would be on the spot to
testify against Angelo when that foul villain should be caught. He
objected openly to Laura's children going about with her. Bitter talk
on every starting subject was exchanged across the duchess's table.
She herself was in disgrace on Laura's account, and had to practise
an overflowing sweetness, with no one to second her efforts. The two
noblemen spoke in accord on the bubble revolution. The strong hand--ay,
the strong hand! The strong hand disposes of vermin. Laura listened to
them, pallid with silent torture. "Since the rascals have taken to
assassination, we know that we have them at the dregs," said Count
Lenkenstein. "A cord round the throats of a few scores of them, and the
country will learn the virtue of docility."

Laura whispered to her sister: "Have you espoused a hangman?"

Such dropping of deadly shells in a quiet society went near to scattering
it violently; but the union was necessitous. Count Lenkenstein desired
to confront Vittoria with Angelo; Laura would not quit her side, and
Amalia would not expel her friend. Count Lenkenstein complained roughly
of Laura's conduct; nor did Laura escape her father's reproof. "Sir, you
are privileged to say what you will to me," she responded, with the
humility which exasperated him.