erson is your enemy. He tells you as much; surely the challenge is
fair? Defeat him as you best can. Angelo shall not be abandoned."

"O me! it is unendurable; you are merciless," said Vittoria, shuddering.

She saw the vile figure of herself aping smirks and tender meanings to
her old lover. It was a picture that she dared not let her mind rest
on: how then could she personate it? All through her life she had been
frank; as a young woman, she was clear of soul; she felt that her,
simplicity was already soiled by the bare comprehension of the
abominable course indicated by Laura. Degradation seemed to have been a
thing up to this moment only dreamed of; but now that it was demanded of
her to play coquette and trick her womanhood with false allurements,
she knew the sentiment of utter ruin; she was ashamed. No word is more
lightly spoken than shame. Vittoria's early devotion to her Art, and
subsequently to her Italy, had carried her through the term when she
would otherwise have showed the natural mild attack of the disease.
It came on her now in a rush, penetrating every chamber of her heart,
overwhelming her; she could see no distinction between being ever so
little false and altogether despicable. She had loathings of her body
and her life. With grovelling difficulty of speech she endeavoured
to convey the sense of her repugnance to Laura, who leaned her ear,
wondering at such bluntness of wit in a woman, and said, "Are you quite
deficient in the craft of your sex, child? You can, and you will, guard
yourself ten times better when your aim is simply to subject him." But
this was not reason to a spirit writhing in the serpent-coil of fiery
blushes.

Vittoria said, "I shall pity him so."

She meant she would pity Wilfrid in deluding him. It was a taint of the
hypocrisy which comes with shame.

The signora retorted: "I can't follow the action of your mind a bit."

Pity being a form of tenderness, Laura supposed that she would
intuitively hate the man who compelled her to do what she abhorred.

They spent the greater portion of the night in this debate.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE ESCAPE OF ANGELO

Vittoria knew better than Laura that the task was easy; she had but to
override her aversion to the show of trifling with a dead passion; and
when she thought of Angelo lying helpless in the swarm of enemies, and
that Wilfrid could consent to use his tragic advantage to force her to
silly love-play, his selfishness wr