She was a generous woman. When she had finished, and the weight had fallen from her heart at last, she rose and went to Vittoria. The girl heard her step and turned. Corona was holding out both hands.
'What shall I do to make you know how grateful I am?' she asked.
'What should you do?' asked Vittoria, sadly. 'It was justice, so I came at once. The great singer—the Basili—came into the room an hour ago. I was alone. She took me for Miss Slayback, with whom I am staying, and before I could speak she had told the truth and given me the package and was gone. So I brought it to you. I trust you to spare my poor brother if you can. Keep the secret, if you can, now that you know the truth. Perhaps something else may prove Don Ippolito innocent long before the trial. But if nothing else will do—why then, you have his innocence in your hands.'
'Where is he?' asked Corona. 'Where is your brother?'
'I do not know. It is several days since he has telegraphed. He never writes. The Basili spoke as though he were in Rome, but I do not think he is. I will go home, please. I am a little tired. You will keep the secret if you can, will you not?'
'Yes. No one shall know it unless it is necessary. But you, child—'
She put her arm round Vittoria, for the girl looked shadowy and faint as she leaned against the table by the window. Vittoria straightened herself, and opened and shut her eyes once or twice as though waking.
'There is nothing the matter,' she said rather proudly. 'I am very well. I am glad that you are happy.'
'You have given me back my life,' answered Corona. 'Some day—but there are no thanks for such things.'
Vittoria began to go towards the door. She wanted no thanks, yet somehow she had hoped that Corona would speak differently, remembering how she had once been left by her with Orsino in that very room. The Princess walked with her to the hall.