You are engaged, and you must either marry San Miniato or take the
consequences and be pointed at as a faithless girl for the rest of your
life."
"And who knows of this engagement, if it is one, but you and I and he?"
asked Beatrice, standing still. "Would you tell, or I? Or would he
dare?"
"He would be perfectly justified," answered the Marchesa. "He is a
gentleman, however, and would be considerate. But who is to assure us
that he has not already telegraphed the good news to his friends?"
"It is too awful!" cried Beatrice, leaning back against one of the
pillars.
"Besides," said her mother without changing her tone. "You have changed
to-day, you may change again to-morrow--"
"Stop, for heaven's sake! Do not make me worse than I am!"
Poor Beatrice stopped her ears with her open hands. The Marchesa looked
at her and smiled a little, and shook her head, waiting for the hands to
be removed. At last the young girl began her walk again.
"You should not talk about being worse when you are not bad at all, my
dear," said her mother. "You have done nothing to be ashamed of, and all
this is perfectly absurd.
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