Minna also did not know what to do, and was filled with impotent rage at her own want of power or inventiveness, or whatever it might be. The dreadful thing was coming nearer and nearer, and not a glimpse appeared in their horizon of any weapon or means of warding it off. After a moment’s pause, during which all kinds of wild ideas and speculations rushed through her brain, Minna asked abruptly: ‘Fulvia mia, tell me something. I have a good reason for asking you. When you first told me of this thing, you said your mother was in debt, and that Mr. Marchmont was going to pay her debts.’ ‘Yes, it is quite true,’ Fulvia nodded. ‘I heard them talking about it. I heard him tell mamma that she was the hardest-hearted business woman he had ever met, and that she would wring blood from a stone.’ Minna refrained from comment, and went on: ‘Did you ever hear how much money your mother wanted to pay her debts? Is it a great deal?’ ‘Oh, an enormous sum!’ cried Fulvia. ‘At least ten thousand lire. I heard them say so. And then he gives her a present as well, but more than that--far more. I do not know how much.’ Minna almost smiled at first, and then felt a sense of burning rage at the idea conveyed to her by Fulvia’s words. The girl was then to be sold for a beggarly four hundred pounds, more or less. So much was necessary, it would seem, to set Signora Dietrich free from embarrassment. The rest was simply for luxury, was over and above, was the premium on her daughter’s wretchedness and degradation. Minna meditated darkly. She felt restless, feverish with anxiety and the agitation of a half-formed scheme which had just begun to shape itself in her mind. There was a pause. Then she said: ‘Well, cara mia, I am sorry you cannot come to me, but I fear there is no getting out of this expedition.’ ‘Oh no!’ said Fulvia apathetically. ‘I only came to tell you of it. A rivederci.’ She smiled faintly and drearily, and went away.