Meanwhile she telegraphed a short and formal message expressing her profound sympathy for his bereavement. More than this she could not do.
She wrote to Castiglione later in the morning, for they had agreed that they would write very often, and she interpreted this to mean every day. But writing was very unsatisfactory now, and she felt a mad desire to see him and hear his voice. It was not that she had any great trouble to tell him, and when she had written down the news of the Countess’s death it seemed a very small matter compared with what filled her heart to overflowing. She poured out her love in words she would hardly have spoken if he had been beside her, lest the great promise should be endangered. She told him truly that he was the light of her life and the glory of her heart, and that no woman had ever loved him as she loved him; and this indeed was true, and she knew it. She called him heart of her heart and soul of her soul, she blessed him, she prayed for him, she bade him believe as she believed, lest death should part for ever what Heaven had at last made one. She wrote long and eloquently, she pressed innocently passionate kisses upon the last words, and she sent the letter on its way without reading it over.
She busied herself in all sorts of ways that day; she could not find enough to do, enough to plan, enough to occupy her thoughts; and though she did all cheerfully, telling herself that she was as happy as she had been in the early morning, there was something that hurt her, somewhere in her heart.
Giuliana came to dine alone with her that evening. Afterwards they sat together a long time, talking of many things not especially important. Then Maria spoke at last.
‘Giuliana, tell me something. Do you think Leone is like his father?’
Her friend looked at her steadily for three or four seconds before she answered.
‘Yes, dear. He is very like him already.’
Maria bent her head and looked at her hands before she answered.
‘I think so, too,’ she said. ‘Thank you for telling me frankly.’
Giuliana saw that the moment was favourable for saying more, and after a little pause she leant forward in her chair, with her elbows on her knees and her chin resting on her joined fingers. Maria knew that something important was coming.