‘But there is something else,’ Giuliana said. ‘Shall I tell you? There is just one thing more.’
‘Does Don Ippolito wish me to know it? He was Diego’s best friend.’
‘Yes. He thinks it will be easier—I mean, it will seem more natural—if it comes through me. Ippolito will never feel that he knows you very well. You understand, don’t you, dear?’
‘Certainly. Go on, please.’ Maria prepared herself for a shock.
‘Last Christmas Eve Diego went to see him, and placed in his hands a letter, to be given to you in case of his death. We have not thought you were well enough to have it until now. Your husband told Ippolito what is in the letter in case it were ever lost, and Ippolito thought best to tell me, so that you may know beforehand what it is about. You are strong enough now.’
‘Yes,’ Maria said, but she turned a shade whiter. ‘I can bear anything now!’
‘It ought to relieve you rather than pain you,’ answered Giuliana. ‘The letter is meant to give you his full consent to marry again, in case he died. But he added——’
Telemaco suddenly checked his horses to a walk at the steep hill, and it was impossible for Giuliana to go on talking in the low phaeton without being heard, unless she spoke in a foreign language. Maria grew whiter.
‘A little faster,’ said Giuliana to the coachman. ‘You can stop at the top of the hill.’
The New Appian Road is paved throughout, and the horses’ hoofs began to clatter on the stones again. Maria waited to hear the rest.