She and Malipieri had both risen. The Signora made a timid movement with her hand, as if she expected that Sabina would offer hers, which Sabina did, rather late, when she saw that it was expected. The lady glanced at Malipieri and then at Sabina with a look of enquiry, as he held out his hand to her and she took it. He saw that she did not recognize him.
"I am Marino Malipieri," he said.
"You?" she cried in surprise.
Then a faint flush rose in her smooth cheeks, and Sabina, who was watching her, saw that her lip trembled a little, and that tears rose in her eyes.
"Forgive me," she said, in an unsteady voice. "I should have known you, after all you have done for me."
"I think it is nearly thirteen years since we met," Malipieri answered.
"I had no beard then."
She looked at him long, evidently in strong emotion, but the tears did not overflow, and the clear light came back gradually in her gaze. Then the three sat down.
"I thought I had better come," she said. "It seemed easier than to write."
"Yes," Sabina answered, not knowing what to say.
"You see," said the Signora, "I could not easily write to you frankly, as I had never seen you, and I did not like to write to Signor Malipieri about what I wanted to know."