"I am very sorry," said Marcantonio in a monotonous voice that had no life in it, and seemed not his own. "If you had waited a little while I could have saved you the journey."
"The journey is nothing," said she. "I am not tired at all, and I would come across the world to be with you."
"Yes," said Marcantonio, "I know you would. It would have been better if we had met further on."
"Further on?" she repeated, hoping he would give her some clue to his intentions.
The old habit of confidence was too strong for him; he wished her away, but he could not help speaking and telling her something. He had never concealed anything from her.
"In Turin," he answered briefly.
"Ah,—is he there?" asked Diana in a low voice.
"He sent his box there,—he will go and get it."
"And then?"
"And then," said Marcantonio, the sullen fire burning in his reddened eyes, "we shall meet."