'Yes. I know. He sees my cousin San Giacinto about it almost every day.'
'Yes.'
Her face grew thoughtful again, but not dreamily so as before, and she seemed to hesitate, as though she had more to say.
'What is it?' asked Orsino, encouraging her to go on.
'Perhaps I ought not to tell you. The Marchese wishes to buy Camaldoli of us.'
'What is Camaldoli?'
'It is the old country house where my mother and my brothers lived so long, while I was in the convent, after my father died. There is a little land. It was all we had until now.'
'Shall you be glad if it is sold, or sorry?' asked Orsino, thoughtfully, and watching her face.
'I shall be glad, I suppose,' she answered. 'It would have to be divided among us, they say. And it is half in ruins, and the land is worth nothing, and there are always brigands.'
Orsino laughed.