"Oh, then--then I should envy you the merciful bullet which struck you, envy you your approaching death," cried Blanden, beside himself, "but it cannot be, Giulia could not thus deceive me." "She wanted to belong to you for ever, and she did not mind a crime." "She must have dreaded the disclosure every moment." "There you have an ardent daughter of our country! She would be happy at any price." "You should have come forward long since, have opposed it." "I did not do it. I was accustomed to turn away from her, to be silent. It was more advantageous for me! She paid well for my silence, but that she should treat me with contempt ate silently into my vitals, and I vowed to be avenged upon the overbearing woman as soon as the hour should have struck." Bach one of these replies, which Baluzzi gave in a low expiring voice, was a deathblow for Blanden. Not only could he not refute them, but they bore the impress of truth. The dark recollection of the Lago Maggiore, of Giulia's agonised bursts of anguish, of the force of circumstances which she lamented, of Baluzzi's appearance on the shore of the lake, and at the gate of the villa, all returned overwhelmingly upon him. He had many times asked casual questions which she had always answered crossly and evasively, and only in order to avoid marring the peace of their honeymoon had he refrained from an enquiry which might easily be misinterpreted. With the keen sharpness of a knife this thought quivered through his brain, and a dread feeling of pain rent his heart, and yet with every excuse which his anxious reason could discover, he tried to stem the coming evil. "Your wife, you say, your wife, but where were you married?" "In the church of San Giulio, on the island, in the lake of Orta." "I will assume that you are speaking the truth, assume it without believing it. But then she was your wife years ago. She is divorced." "Our Church knows no divorce," murmured Baluzzi softly to himself. "Your laws--" "Do not recognise it either!" "Well, then, she has been divorced in some other country where it is permitted." "I have always remained a subject of Italy, and even here--I had grounds enough for a divorce--remember the villa at Stresa--but I would not." Baluzzi made a sign of denial. He groaned, and pressed his hand upon his heart. He could not speak any more. "Horrible," cried Blanden; then he began to perceive what Giulia's heart must have gone through in its passionate love for him--the unbounded deception became comprehensible. He could not but acknowledge to himself that he should never have made his, this vagrant's wife, even if she had been divorced. Giulia had told herself the same, and therefore concealed the past from him. But that he should realise the possibility, could realise it, seemed to him like inexpiable injustice to Giulia.