‘Yes, but I don’t believe a word of it. She says it was Balduccio.’
‘Why in the world should he quarrel with Monsieur de Maurienne?’ Maria turned innocent eyes to meet Giuliana’s.
‘Teresa does not explain that,’ laughed the Marchesa, ‘but she darkly hints that the affair which did not come off concerned herself!’
‘How silly she is!’
Indeed, the absurdity of the story was so apparent, that Maria would not ask any more questions. She was continually doing her best to keep Castiglione out of her thoughts, and the painful scene with her husband during the afternoon made it all the harder for her. She changed the subject.
‘Giuliana,’ she asked, ‘shall you let your boys walk to school or even go in the tram while the strike lasts?’
‘Oh, yes!’ answered the Marchesa. ‘But the trams have stopped this afternoon. Have you not been out? The boys walk in the morning, for there is never any disturbance till much later. All good anarchists dine comfortably, and often too well, before they go out to howl in the streets.’
She laughed carelessly.
‘I daresay you are right,’ Maria answered. ‘I never let Leone be out in the city on foot or in trams after luncheon. Three or four times a week he rides with Diego in the Campagna, and they generally go as far as one of the city gates in a cab, but I always send Diego’s little brougham to fetch them. I’m afraid they may both catch cold in a cab after riding.’