His tone convinced Donna Tullia that he really possessed some weapon which he could use against Don Giovanni if he pleased.  She wondered only why, if it were true, he did not use it, seeing that he must hate Saracinesca with all his heart.  Del Ferice knew so much about people, so many strange and forgotten stories, he had so accurate a memory and so acute an intelligence, that it was by no means impossible that he was in possession of some secret connected with the Saracinesca.  They were, or were thought to be, wild, unruly men, both father and son; there were endless stories about them both; and there was nothing more likely than that, in his numerous absences from home, Giovanni had at one time or another figured in some romantic affair, which he would be sorry to have had generally known.  Del Ferice was wise enough to keep his own counsel; but now that his hatred was thoroughly roused, he might very likely make use of the knowledge he possessed.  Donna Tullia’s curiosity was excited to its highest pitch, and at the same time she had pleasant visions of the possible humiliation of the man by whom she felt herself so ill-used.  It would be worth while making the sacrifice in order to learn Del Fence’s secret.

“This need not be a mere jest,” she said, after a moment’s silence.

“That is as you please,” returned Del Ferice, seriously.  “If you are willing to do your part, you may be sure that I will do mine.”

“You cannot think I really meant what I said just now,” replied Donna Tullia.  “It would be madness.”

“Why?  Am I halt, am I lame, am I blind?  Am I repulsively ugly?  Am I a pauper, that I should care for your money?  Have I not loved you—­yes, loved you long and faithfully?  Am I too old?  Is there anything in the nature of things why I should not aspire to be your husband?”

It was strange.  He spoke calmly, as though enumerating the advantages of a friend.  Donna Tullia looked at him for a moment, and then laughed outright.

“No,” she said; “all that is very true.  You may aspire, as you call it.  The question is, whether I shall aspire too.  Of course, if we happened to agree in aspiring, we could be married to-morrow.”

“Precisely,” answered Del Ferice, perfectly unmoved.  “I am not proposing to marry you.  I am arguing the case.  There is this in the case which is perhaps outside the argument—­this, that I am devotedly attached to you.  The case is the stronger for that.  I was only trying to demonstrate that the idea of our being married is not so unutterably absurd.  You laughingly said you would marry me if I could accomplish something which would please you very much.  I laughed also; but now I seriously repeat my proposition, because I am convinced that although at first sight it may appear extremely humourous, on a closer inspection it will be found exceedingly practical.  In union is strength.”