"He came because he chose to come," answered Bosio, still looking at the title page of the book. "Gianluca did not send him. He wished to know whether it were true that I was to marry Veronica."
"I thought so. And what did you answer? Of course you told him that it was quite settled."
"We had a long conversation—I do not remember all that we said—"
"You do not remember whether you told him that you were to marry
Veronica or not?" Matilde laughed angrily and came forward.
"Let that book alone!" she said imperiously. "Look at me—so—now tell me the truth!"
She laid her hand upon his arm, and not gently, and she made him turn to her. Bosio felt that shock of shame which smites a man in the back, as it were, when a woman is too strong for him and orders him brutally to do her will.
"I told him the truth," he answered, and his pale cheeks reddened with futile anger.
"The truth!" Matilde's face darkened. "What? What did you tell him?"
Bosio was weakly glad to have frightened her a little.
"The truth," he said, trying to assume a certain indifference. "Just that. I let him understand that nothing is definitely settled yet, and that there is no contract—"