"Yes," Juliana had answered, with a smile; "yes, mother, we will stay as long as you wish."
That smile often appeared on Juliana's lips when my mother was by. And, although her eyes invariably retained their melancholy, that smile was so sweet, so profoundly kind, that I permitted even myself to be deceived by it. I dared now to entertain some hope.
During the first few days my mother could not tear herself away from her dear visitors; one might have thought she wished to surfeit them with tenderness. I saw her two or three times under the influence of some indefinable emotion, I saw her caress Juliana's hair with her blessed hand, I heard her ask her:
"Is he as kind to you as ever?"
"Yes, poor Tullio!" replied the other voice.
"So it is not true..."
"What?"
"I was told that..."
"What were you told?"
"Nothing, nothing ... I thought that Tullio had caused you some unhappiness."