"Certainly. Shall we go together?"
"Oh, no! I do not want you at all!" cried the young girl, frankly and laughing. "I have a secret. I will take Elettra with me."
Elettra was the name of the maid.
"Very well," replied Matilde. "I suppose you will tell me the secret some day. Is it connected with New Year's presents? There are three weeks yet. You have plenty of time."
Veronica laughed again, which was undoubtedly equivalent to admitting her aunt's explanation, and therefore not, in theory, perfectly truthful. But she did not wish the countess to know that she was going to Bianca Corleone's house, since Matilde would of course suppose, if she knew it, that she was going to consult Bianca about accepting Bosio, which was not true either. She laughed, therefore, and said nothing, having got the use of the carriage, which was all she wanted.
"It is horrible weather," observed Matilde, looking at the window, upon which the rain was beating like wet whips, making the panes rattle and shake.
"Yes, but I want some air," answered Veronica, in a tone of decision.
At such a time it was not safe to irritate the girl even about the smallest matter, and Matilde said nothing more, though under other circumstances she would have made objections. As it was not yet time to go out, and in order to get rid of her aunt, Veronica bade Elettra take out a ball gown which needed some change and improvement, Matilde understood well enough that it was useless to wait longer for the chance of being again alone with her niece, and in a few minutes she went away.
On the whole, she had the impression that the prospect was very good. But after she had closed the door, she turned in the outer room, stood still a moment and looked back, allowing her face for a moment to betray what she felt. The expression was a strange one; for it showed doubt, fear, conditional hatred, and potential vengeance—a complicated state of mind, which the cleverest judge of human faces could hardly have understood from Matilde's features. Then, with bent head, and closed hands hanging by her sides, she went on her way.
An hour later Veronica and her maid were driving through the rain westward, towards Bianca's villa. As they approached their destination, Veronica felt that she was by no means as calm and indifferent as she had expected to be. Yesterday, it had seemed a very simple matter to go to the garden, to find Gianluca there, to walk ten or twenty paces with him out of hearing of Bianca, and to listen to what he had to say. In a manner it had seemed, indeed, a wild and romantic adventure, which she should remember all her life. But it had looked easy to do, whereas now, all at once, it looked very hard. Again and again, on the way, she was on the point of stopping the carriage and returning. It all looked so different, at the last minute, from what she had expected.