Corona was not prepared for Flavia's manner, and it grated disagreeably on her sensibilities. But she said nothing, only returning her salutation with becoming cordiality before sitting down between the two sisters. Faustina looked on coldly, disgusted with such indifference. It struck her that if Corona had not accompanied her to the Termini, it would have been very hard to induce any of her own family to do so.
"And poor papa!" continued Flavia volubly. "Is it not too dreadful, too horrible? To think of any one daring! I shall never get over the impression it made on me—never. Without a priest, without any one—poor dear!"
"Heaven is very merciful," said Corona, thinking it necessary to make some such remark.
"Oh, I know," answered Flavia, with sudden seriousness. "I know. But poor papa—you see—I am afraid—"
She stopped significantly and shook her head, evidently implying that
Prince Montevarchi's chances of blessedness were but slender.
"Flavia!" cried Faustina indignantly, "how can you say such things!"
"Oh, I say nothing, and besides, I daresay—you see he was sometimes very kind. It was only yesterday, for instance, that he actually promised me those earrings—you know, Faustina, the pearl drops at Civilotti's—it is true, they were not so very big after all. He really said he would give them to me as a souvenir if—oh! I forgot."
She stopped with some embarrassment, for she had been on the point of saying that the earrings were to be a remembrance if the suit were won, when she recollected that she was speaking to Corona.
"Well—it would have been very kind of him if he had," she added. "Perhaps that is something. Poor papa! One would feel more sure about it, if he had got some kind of absolution."
"I do not believe you cared for him at all!" exclaimed Faustina. Corona evidently shared this belief, for she looked very grave and was silent.