The thought was the reverse of consoling.
Nor did it contribute to his peace of mind to know that if he had
made himself a laughing-stock, the cardinal, who dreaded ridicule,
would certainly refuse to play a part in his comedy, and would act
with all the rigour suitable to so grave a situation. He might
even bring his prisoner to trial. Giovanni would submit to that,
rather than be laughed at, but the alternative now seemed an
appalling one. In his disgust of life on that memorable morning he
had cared nothing what became of him, and had been in a state
which precluded all just appreciation of the future. His enforced
solitude had restored his faculties. He desired nothing less than
to be tried for murder, because he had taken a short cut to
satisfy his wife's caprice. But that caprice had for its object
the liberty of poor Faustina Montevarchi. At all events, if he had
made himself ridiculous, the ultimate purpose of his folly had
been good, and had been accomplished.
All through the afternoon he paced his room, alternately in a
state of profound dissatisfaction with himself, and in a condition
of anxious curiosity about coming events. He scarcely touched his
food or noticed the attendant who entered half a dozen times to
perform his various offices.
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