‘Because if you are as good friends as you always used to be, I think you had better tell her that people are talking about her. I like her, too, and it is a great pity that anything disagreeable should be said, especially if there is no ground for it.’
‘I’m sure there is none,’ said Giuliana promptly. ‘What is the gossip about her?’
‘That she is seeing too much of Baldassare del Castiglione.’
‘He is in Milan, my dear. How can she see much of him? What nonsense! Really, Mondo, you should not repeat such stuff to me! It’s too absurd!’
Parenzo’s first name was Sigismondo, of which Mondo is the diminutive. He shook his head quietly at his wife’s rebuke.
‘I know he is in Milan,’ he answered. ‘But he was here for a fortnight a while ago, and people are saying that they met every day. When he did not go to see her early in the afternoon, they met in quiet corners and walked together.’
‘I suppose that by “people” you mean Teresa Crescenzi,’ laughed Giuliana. ‘She is the mother of all gossip, you know.’
‘It was de Maurienne who told me,’ rejoined Sigismondo.
‘That’s the same thing!’ Giuliana laughed again.
‘Oh, is it? I did not know. You don’t say so!’