“Not until this hour have we spoken of our love.” “But all the time you were plotting my disgrace,” he argued, eyeing her shrewdly. “There was no plot,” she averred, rising, impatiently. “If you cannot be fair discussion is useless.” “Be fair!” he flung out, drawing nearer to her. “Let me ask if you think it fair to discard me at this hour--to degrade me before the world?” Without hesitation she answered: “I was on the point of doing you a great injury. My love for Mario Forza has saved me.” “Saved you from the crime of marrying me?” he suggested, querulously. “Say, rather, the crime of marriage with a man I do not love,” she corrected. “As you will; but I cannot see how it has saved you,” he told her, coolly. “What do you mean?” “Merely that engagements of marriage are contracts, and not to be treated so lightly as you and your--friend seem to think. I hold you to your promise.” “In the chapel you said----” “Oh, yes,” he broke in, with a shrug. “I accepted the situation, but it was only pretence. I did not feel called upon to discuss the subject then and there. The fact is, Donna Hera, the marriage must take place to-morrow, just as it has been arranged.” “No, no!” she exclaimed, a note of entreaty in her voice. “You must release me.” “I will not release you!” he declared, calmly, relentlessly. “You will become my wife to-morrow in the cathedral of Milan. And do you know why? Because the honour of a Barbiondi will hold you to the right.” “Oh, I cannot!” she cried, and moved from him, but he followed. “I am sure that you will,” he persisted. “I am sure that your better self will guide you when you pause to think.” “Oh, it is impossible!” was all she could answer. “It was not so impossible a few days ago,” he reminded her, cynically. “I know, I know,” she owned, helplessly, looking into his hard face. “If you were a woman you would understand why it is different now.” “I think I understand you,” he pursued. “For the moment you are governed by notions of right and wrong that are not yours, that are unworthy of you. You are swayed alone by a desire for your own happiness. In the end you will look with less selfish eyes and see where your duty is.” To her mind rose the assertion of Mario that from a sense of duty great wrongs might spring, and she knew the force of it now, with her promised husband demanding the sacrifice of her love, and conscience whispering that his demand was just. Tarsis smiled in content to perceive that he had brought her to a troubled state of mind.