“Oh, it is very sad, very sad indeed!”
“And you have come from Italy with your sister?” asked Marcel.
“No,” said Cesare. “Madame Vignola was living in Paris, where I have recently been to see her. We intend to return to Naples, and settle down. Not before autumn, however. Yes, it is very sad indeed!”
Marcel saw that the Count Cesare did not appear to wish to take his leave, and, as he was interested in what he related, he led the way to a green arbour, with rustic seats, sheltered from the rays of the setting sun.
“Will you take a seat, sir?”
The Italian chose an armchair, and drew from his pocket a gold cigarette-case, which he held out to Marcel. “A cigarette?”
“Willingly.”
They began to smoke, and the tobacco seemed to render Cesare even more loquacious.
“This villa where my sister now lives is far from the village. Is the country round here quite safe?”
“Perfectly safe. Your sister will have nothing to fear from any one.”