Of late, I had been thinking that we might perhaps marry her
to that clever Malipieri."
The Baron smiled thoughtfully, took his cigar from his lips at last,
and looked at his wife.
"To Malipieri?" he asked, as if not quite understanding the
suggestion.
"Yes, I am sure he would make her a very good husband. He evidently
admires her, too."
"Possibly. I never thought of it. But she has no dowry. That is an
objection."
"He will be rich some day. Is he poor now?"
"No. Not at all."
"And she certainly likes him very much. It would be a very good match
for her."
"Admirable. But I do not think we need trouble ourselves with such
speculations, since she is going to leave us so soon."
"I shall always take a friendly interest in her," said the Baroness,
"wherever she may be."
"Very well, my dear," Volterra answered, dropping the end of his cigar
and preparing to rise. "That will be very charitable of you. But your
friendly interest can never marry her to Malipieri."
"Perhaps not. But it might have been done, if she had not been so
foolish."
"No," said the Baron, getting to his feet, "it never could have been
done."
"Why not?" asked his wife, surprised by the decision of his tone.
"Because there is a very good reason why Malipieri cannot marry her,
my dear."
"A good reason?"
"A very good reason.
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