But Castiglione returned to the sitting-room and did not call his man for half an hour, during which time he dressed himself without the latter’s help, as he often did. It was noon when he went out, and the day was fine. Whatever he had determined to do, he was in no great hurry, for he strolled along at a leisurely pace, enjoying the sunshine and the bright air after the rain. But there was no hesitation as to the direction he meant to take, and he neither slackened his walk nor hastened it till he reached the door of the Marchesa di Parenzo’s pretty house, when it was a quarter-past twelve.
He asked if she were alone, and on being informed that she was, he told the man to inquire whether she could receive him for a few moments. She would guess well enough that only an important matter could bring him at such an hour. He found her in her sitting-room, for the elder boys had not come home from school and the smaller children were already at their dinner. As usual, she wore a wonderfully fitting frock, that looked as if it had just left the hands of a consummate artist, and an exquisite little pin, of a perfectly new design, fastened the tie which was in the fashion for women that winter.
‘I hope you will stay to luncheon,’ she said, as soon as they had shaken hands. ‘Sigismondo is coming, and there will be no one else but the boys.’
‘You are very kind, but I can only stay a few minutes,’ Castiglione answered, wondering how many of the women he knew would take the trouble to look their best merely for their husbands and their children. ‘I came to ask a question which may seem strange to you. Can you tell me anything about that steward of Montalto’s who has absconded?’
Giuliana’s quiet eyes examined his face attentively. The question was certainly not one to which she could object; but though she had always felt inclined to like him, she had always disapproved of him, and she had distrusted his intentions towards Maria since he had returned to Rome. To the womanly woman he appealed as a particularly manly man; to the virtuous matron, far above the faintest breath of gossip, he represented the wicked and heartless tempter, going about to destroy.
‘Yes,’ she answered, ‘I heard something about Orlando Schmidt yesterday. Teresa Crescenzi has a story, as usual. She says that he played in some place where there is a roulette and lost a great deal of money.’
‘Oh! That is interesting, if it is true. I wonder how she found it out.’
‘I have forgotten. I daresay she did not tell us. Sigismondo will remember the whole story, if you will only wait till he comes in.’
‘I’m sorry, but I cannot stay. Perhaps I had better go and ask Donna Teresa herself. Are you sure she did not tell you where the gambling den was?’
‘I think she mentioned Via Belsiana,’ answered the Marchesa, making an effort of memory. ‘For my part, I did not know that such places existed in Rome.’