When Ghisleri was at last able to go out of the house, his first visit was to Maddalena dell' Armi. He had written a line to say that he was coming, and she expected him. The meeting was a strange one, for both felt at first the constraint of their mutual position. Ghisleri looked at her face, which had been so hard when he had last seen it, and he saw that it had softened. There were no signs of suffering, however, and her expression was almost as placid as his own. He raised her hand to his lips and sat down opposite to her. Then the light fell on his face and she saw how changed he was. She remembered how he had looked when she had seen him after he was wounded, and she saw that he was almost as pale now as then, and that he was thin almost to emaciation.
"Are you really growing strong again?" she asked in a tone of anxiety.
"Yes, indeed," he answered with a smile. "I feel as though I were quite well—a little gaunt and weak, perhaps, but that will soon pass. And you—how have you spent your time in all these weeks since I last saw you?"
"Very much as usual," replied Maddalena, and suddenly a weary look came into her eyes. "If you care to know—as long as you were really in danger I did not go out. Then I went everywhere again, and tried to amuse myself."
"Did you succeed?" asked Ghisleri, trying hard to speak cheerfully. There had been something hopeless in Maddalena's tone which shocked him and pained him.
"More or less. Why do you ask me that?"
"Because I am interested."
"Do you care for me in the least—in any way?" she asked abruptly.
"You know that I do—"
"How should I know it?"