“Yes, that may be,” answered Fra Pacifico, reflectively, “if you choose to force him.  But I warn you that I will put no violence on Enrica’s feelings.  She must decide for herself.”

“But if Enrica still loves him,” urged the marchesa, determined if possible to avoid an appeal to her niece—­“if Enrica still loves him, as you assure me she does, may we not look upon her acquiescence as obtained?”

Fra Pacifico shook his head.  He was perfectly unmoved by the marchesa’s violence.

“Life, honor, position, reputation, all rest on this marriage.  I have accepted Count Nobili’s money; Count Nobili must accept my niece.”

“Your niece must nevertheless consent.  I can permit no other arrangement.  Then you have to find Count Nobili.  He must voluntarily appear at the altar.”

Fra Pacifico turned his resolute face full upon the marchesa.  Her whole attitude betrayed intense excitement.

“Your niece must consent, Count Nobili must appear voluntarily before the altar, else the Church cannot sanction the union.  It would be sacrilege.  How do you propose to overcome Count Nobili’s refusal?”

“By the law!” exclaimed the marchesa, imperiously.

Fra Pacifico turned aside his head to conceal a smile.  The law had not hitherto favored the marchesa.  Her constant appeal to the law had been the principal cause of her present troubles.

“By the law,” the marchesa repeated.  Her sallow face glowed for a moment.  “Surely, Fra Pacifico—­surely you will not oppose me?  You talk of the Church.  The Church, indeed!  Did not the wretch sign the marriage-contract in your presence?  The Church must enable him to complete his contract.  In your presence too, as priest and civil delegate; and you talk of sacrilege, my father!  Che! che!  Dio buono!” she exclaimed, losing all self-control in the conviction her own argument brought to her—­“Fra Pacifico, you must be mad!”

“I only ask for Enrica’s consent,” answered the priest.  “That given, if Count Nobili comes, I will consent to marry them.”

“Count Nobili—­he shall come—­never fear,” and the marchesa gave a short, scornful laugh.  “After I have been to Lucca he will come.  I shall have done my duty.  It is all very well,” added the marchesa, loftily, “for low people to pair like animals, from inclination.  Such vulgar motives have no place in the world in which I live.  Persons of my rank form alliances among themselves from more elevated considerations; from political and prudential motives; for the sake of great wealth when wealth is required; to shed fresh lustre on an historic name by adding to it the splendor of another equally illustrious.  My own marriage was arranged for this end.  Again I remind you, my father, that nothing but necessity would have forced me to permit a usurer’s son to dare to aspire to the hand of my niece.  It is a horrible degradation—­the first blot on a spotless escutcheon.”