The growing antipathy he felt for Donna Tullia had made his marriage with her appear in the light of a disagreeable duty, and his rashness in confessing his love for Corona had so disturbed his previous conceptions that marriage no longer seemed a duty at all.

What had been but a few days before almost a fixed resolution, had dwindled till it seemed an impracticable and even a useless scheme.

When he had arrived at the Palazzo Frangipani that evening, he had very nearly forgotten Donna Tullia, and had quite determined that whatever his father might say he would not give the promised answer before Easter.

By the time the Cardinal had left him, he had decided that no power on earth should induce him to marry Madame Mayer.

He did not take the trouble of saying to himself that he would marry no one else.
The Cardinal's words had struck deep, in a deep nature.