‘She is no friend of mine,’ she said. ‘I do not care to see her.’
‘You need not quarrel with her, my dear, if you meet. I shall take the responsibility on myself, and I shall be careful to let her know that it is I who forbid her my house.’
He was not a short man, and when he drew himself up he looked tall. Maria no longer felt that she could throw him to the floor if he took her hand.
‘I have not many real friends here now,’ he said, more gently. ‘One whom I especially esteem is Monsignor Saracinesca. Do you ever see him?’
‘I saw him not long ago, and I sometimes meet him at his father’s house. We are on good terms.’
‘That is very pleasant,’ Montalto answered. ‘I shall often ask him here, if you do not object.’
‘I shall always be glad to see him,’ returned Maria. ‘But, please, Diego, do not consult me about such things. I am very deeply conscious of your generosity in all ways, and this house is yours, not mine.’
‘It is ours,’ said Montalto, ‘except for Teresa Crescenzi. I do not wish you to think of it in any other way. And that brings me to the last point. May I inquire whether you have found yourself in any—how shall I say?—in any financial straits in which my fortune can be of service to you?’
You may judge a man of the world’s wisdom by the sort of wife he chooses, but the test of a gentleman is the way he treats his wife. Maria was profoundly touched by her husband’s question. She rose from her seat and went close to him, overcoming her repulsion easily for the moment as she took his hand and spoke.
‘No, I have made no debts. But I have no words to thank you for your kindness. I shall try to deserve it.’