In September Regina perceived that the old miller's prophecy had come true. She was to be a mother.
The fact was not particularly agitating, certainly not displeasing, either to her or to her husband. It occasioned, however, a small dispute between them, for Antonio declared at once that the child must have a nurse, while Regina was for bringing it up herself.
"Too much worry," he said, almost roughly.
"Well, have we the means to pay for a nurse?"
"We have," he affirmed, shortly.
The year passed. Nothing extraordinary happened. During the winter Regina went out little and scarcely saw any one. She did not visit her mother-in-law, finding an excuse in the stairs. When Arduina came to look for her, she bade the maid say she was not at home. She was aware of her own ingratitude, since after all it was Arduina who had got Antonio his post with the Princess; but she could not overcome her antipathy to her husband's whole family.
Before the child's birth she fell into a sort of moral lethargy. In spite of the physical disturbances her prospects did not displease her; on the other hand, the idea of motherhood woke in her little enthusiasm. During the winter she devoured an immense number of novels, which her husband brought from the library. Hour after hour she sat over the fire, which Antonio had arranged in one of the drawing-rooms—quite alone and very quiet.
Antonio went out in the morning often while she was still asleep. He ran in for lunch, went out again, came back towards evening after an extra hour or two in the office, studying or dispatching business for the Princess. Regina had got used to solitude.
All was going on well; perhaps too well. In addition to his two salaries, Antonio said he had made a little by extra work in the Department. Then one evening towards the middle of April, when the birth of the baby was imminent, he told Regina a somewhat curious story.
"If you won't scold," he began, "I'll confess my sins to you."