And every time vice is mentioned we think how attractive it must be, since it is necessary to preach against it so much; and the more attractive it seems, the greater the temptation.

“Should you like to try a vice or two?” said the Spartan, “Very well.  Come with me, my boy, and you shall see what vice is; and after that, if you care to try it, please yourself, for I shall have nothing more to say!”

And forthwith he played upon the string of disgust, which is the most sensitive of all the strings that vibrate in the great human instrument; and the boy’s stomach rose, and he sickened and turned away, and remembered for ever, though he might try ever so hard to forget.

Marcello at last saw Folco as he was, though still without understanding the worst, and with no suspicion that Folco wished him out of the world, and had deliberately set to work to kill him by dissipation; and the disgust he felt was the most horrible sensation that he could remember.  At the same time he saw himself and his whole life, and the perplexity of his position frightened him.

It seemed impossible to go back and live under the same roof with Corbario now.  He flushed with shame when he remembered the luncheon at Saint Moritz, and how he had been almost persuaded to leave poor Regina suddenly, and to go back to Paris with his stepfather.  He saw through the devilish cleverness of the man’s arguments, and when he remembered that his dead mother’s name had been spoken, a thrill of real pain ran through his body and he clenched his teeth and his hands.

He asked himself how he could meet Folco after that, and the only answer was that if they met they must quarrel and part, not to meet again.

He told Regina that he would not go back to the villa after they reached Rome, but would live in the little house in Trastevere.  To his surprise, she looked grave and shook her head.  She had never asked him what was making him so silent and thoughtful, but she had guessed much of the truth from little things; she herself had never trusted Corbario since she had first seen his face at the hospital, and she had long foreseen the coming struggle.

“Why do you shake your head?” he asked.  “Do you not want me at the little house?”

“The villa is yours, not his,” she said.  “He will be glad if you will leave him there, for he will be the master.  Then he will marry again, and live there, and it will be hard to turn him out.”

“What makes you think he wishes to marry again?”

“He would be married already, if the girl would have him,” answered Regina.

“How do you know?”

“You told me to watch, to find out.  I have obeyed you.  I know everything.”

Marcello was surprised, and did not quite understand.  He only remembered that he had asked her to ascertain whether Settimia had sent a note to Folco at Saint Moritz.  After a day or two she told him that she was quite sure of it.  That was all, and Regina had scarcely ever spoken of Folco since then.  Marcello reminded her of this, and asked her what she had done.