“I go to the podere myself this very day, and see that you do no more work there,” she exclaimed vehemently. “You can go back at once, for little ’Tista shall take these poor beasts. If you have no shame as men for your cruelty, at least you shall find another farm for yourselves.”
Phillis could almost have smiled at the abashed looks of the men before the young indignant princess, whose sway no one seemed to dispute. The girl herself showed no discomposure at being found in this character. She gave her orders to ’Tista, directed that time should be given to the trembling creature to recover itself, and then, still pale with anger, came towards the carriage.
“When they are cruel like that, I hate the Italians,” she said, without any other explanation, as she put out her hand.
“There should be a society formed,” Miss Preston suggested eagerly. “Let me put down your names, and I will see about it to-morrow. A society for the protection of animals—the idea is admirable.”
“Oh, societies! There may be one for anything I know,” said the girl wearily. “There is no law behind it, that is the drawback. Are you come to spend the day? That is kind of you.”
But Phillis explained it was only an hour they had come to spend. “And when we have seen Mrs Masters, will you let Kitty show Miss Preston the great cellars where you store your wine? she does not feel quite satisfied about the vintage yet.”
It was not difficult for Miss Grey to find some further excuse for getting Bice alone. She had not seen the upper storey of the house, where there were great bare-looking bedrooms and sitting-rooms, a studio, laundries, all sorts of places. The girl’s room had a wonderful carved marble bas-relief over the fireplace, and a charming ceiling, bright and fantastic, but otherwise all the furniture was old and the greater part shabby. Phillis glanced at it with little attention; there was something she wanted to say, and she was not quick at turning a conversation to a desired point. It was Bice who unconsciously led to it. “When we are in Rome,” she had said, and then she looked quickly at Phillis—“But then you will be married?” she said in a low voice.
Phillis thought she was prepared, and yet at the words the colour rushed up to the roots of her hair.
“That is at an end,” she said very hurriedly. “We are not going to marry. It was settled before anyone had thought enough about it, and thinking has made us change our minds. Forget that you ever heard that it was to be.”
How fast her heart beat! How stiffly the syllables seemed to issue from her mouth. And yet she had meant to tell her quietly and calmly, to use quite different words. There was a silence in which the wind drove the loose branch of some creeper against the window, and in which Bice looked at Phillis.