Gamba shrugged his shoulders. "Why," said he, "a child of my own is a
luxury I am never likely to possess as long as I have wit to remember
the fundamental axiom of philosophy: entia non sunt multiplicanda
praeter necessitatum; so it is natural enough fate should single me out
to repair the negligence of those who have failed to observe that
admirable principle. And now," he added, turning gently to Momola, "it
is time to put the boy to bed."
When the door had closed on her Odo turned to Gamba. "I could learn
nothing at Pontesordo," he said. "They seemed unwilling to speak of her.
What is her story and where did you first know her?"
Gamba's face darkened. "You will remember, cavaliere," he said, "that
some time after your departure from Pianura I passed into the service of
the Marquess of Cerveno, then a youth of about twenty, who combined with
graceful manners and a fair exterior a nature so corrupt and cowardly
that he seemed like some such noble edifice as this, designed to house
great hopes and high ambitions, but fallen to base uses and become the
shelter of thieves and prostitutes. Prince Ferrante being sickly from
his birth, the Marquess was always looked on as the Duke's successor,
and to Trescorre, who even then, as Master of the Horse, cherished the
ambitions he has since realised, no prospect could have been more
distasteful. My noble brother, to do him justice, has always hated the
Jesuits, who, as you doubtless know, were all-powerful here before the
recent suppression of the Order.
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