“‘No; for his conduct is utterly indefensible.’
“‘What conduct, my child?’
“‘My dear father, with all that you have heard of him lately, you cannot have heard of the shocking event at Paris.’
“‘Yes, my dear, I have heard it all—though I did not know at the time that he was your husband.’
“‘And now that you do know it, what do you think of all this, sir?’
“‘I think, my dear, that it is strange in you, and incomprehensible to me, that you should feel no regret for the young man’s tragic fate, nor wear one sign of mourning for him who was your husband. I think, my dear, that in this you should pay some respect to death, if not to the dead,’ he gravely replied.
“It was now my turn to stare at him.
“‘Father!’ I exclaimed; ‘I do not comprehend. What tragic fate? Who is dead? Not Luigi! I heard of him only yesterday!’
“‘Heard of him? Heard of whom? Not Saviola? Is it possible that you do not know?’
“‘Know what, sir? I know nothing, it seems. What do you mean, dear father?’