"And besides, he is much too young for her. They are nearly of the same age."
"I never thought of their marrying," replied Maddalena, with a little emphasis, "and I should certainly not choose this time to think of it!"
"I fancy few men can look at your daughter without wishing that they might marry her, my dear lady," said Corbario, rising to go away. "Pray present my homage to her, and tell her how very sorry I am not to have seen her."
He smiled as if he were only half in earnest, and he took his leave. He was scarcely gone when Aurora entered the sitting-room by another door.
"Was it Marcello?" she asked quietly enough, though her voice sounded a little dull.
"No, dear," answered her mother. "It was Folco Corbario. I wrote to him some days ago and he came to see me. Marcello has left Paris. I did not know you had come home."
Aurora sat down rather wearily, pulled out her hatpins, and laid her hat on her knee. Then she slowly turned it round and round, examining every inch of it with profound attention, as women do. They see things in hats which we do not.
"Mamma—" Aurora got no further, and went on turning the hat round.
"Yes? What were you going to say?"
"Nothing—I have forgotten." The hat revolved steadily. "Are we going to stay here long?"