At the mid-day halt Count Karl deigned to justify to her his intended execution of Rinaldo—­the accomplice in the slaying of his brother Count Paula.  He was evidently eager to obtain her good opinion of the Austrian military.  “But for this miserable spirit of hatred against us,” he said, “I should have espoused an Italian lady;” and he asked, “Why not?  For that matter, in all but blood we Lenkensteins are half Italian, except when Italy menaces the empire.  Can you blame us for then drawing the sword in earnest?”

He proffered his version of the death of Count Paul.  She kept her own silent in her bosom.

Clelia Guidascarpi, according to his statement, had first been slain by her brothers.  Vittoria believed that Clelia had voluntarily submitted to death and died by her own hand.  She was betrothed to an Italian nobleman of Bologna, the friend of the brothers.  They had arranged the marriage; she accepted the betrothal.  “She loved my brother, poor thing!” said Count Karl.  “She concealed it, and naturally.  How could she take a couple of wolves into her confidence?  If she had told the pair of ruffians that she was plighted to an Austrian, they would have quieted her at an earlier period.  A woman! a girl—­signorina!  The intolerable cowardice amazes me.  It amazes me that you or anyone can uphold the character of such brutes.  And when she was dead they lured my brother to the house and slew him; fell upon him with daggers, stretched him at the foot of her coffin, and then—­what then?—­ran! ran for their lives.  One has gone to his account.  We shall come across the other.  He is among that volunteer party which attacked us yesterday.  The body was carried off by them; it is sufficient testimony that Angelo Guidascarpi is in the neighbourhood.  I should be hunting him now but that I am under orders to march South-east.”

The story, as Vittoria knew it, had a different, though yet a dreadful, colour.

“I could have hanged Rinaldo,” Count Karl said further.  “I suppose the rascals feared I should use my right, and that is why they sent their mad baggage of a woman to spare any damage to the family pride.  If I had been a man to enjoy vengeance, the rope would have swung for him.  In spite of provocation, I shall simply shoot the other; I pledge my word to it.  They shall be paid in coin.  I demand no interest.”

Weisspriess prudently avoided her.  Wilfrid held aloof.  She sat in garden shade till the bugle sounded.  Tyrolese and Italian soldiers were gibing at her haggard companion when she entered the carriage.  Fronting this dumb creature once more, Vittoria thought of the story of the brothers.  She felt herself reading it from the very page.  The woman looked that evil star incarnate which Laura said they were born under.

This is in brief the story of the Guidascarpi.