For were the seed I was about to sow to take root in the craven heart of Ramiro del' Orca, it would so fully occupy his mind that he would have little time to bestow on Paola in the few hours that were left him.

But before I could bethink me of words, he was speaking again.
"I held out to you a slender hope," said he.

"I told you that there was one little thing might save you.

That hope has borne no fruit; the little thing, I spoke of has not come to pass.

It rested with Madonna Paola, here.