She raised herself on her elbow and surveyed her husband. His fine head, motionless on the pillow, illuminated by the gold ray from the window, had the severe beauty of a statue. Blue veins showed on his closed eyelids. His whole aspect was of suavity and gentleness.
Last night he had come home late, later than usual, even though most nights he was late. Regina was not jealous. He worked hard all day. Every hour was absorbed by feverish activity. Only in the evening could he amuse himself, walk, do what he liked. His wife knew this and asked for no account of these hours. Besides, did he not always tell her where he had been? There were days in which husband and wife hardly saw each other, except in the morning when they first woke; and sometimes, if he woke late, Antonio had to jump out of bed, dress in a hurry, bolt his breakfast, and run to the office.
For all that, perhaps because of that, their life went on smooth and tranquil as a limpid and quiet stream. Nurse (always relating how she had lived with a pair who used to beat each other even in bed—"and when I wanted to make peace between them I took a stick too!") used to say—
"We can't go on like this, Mistress! Do quarrel with Master a little, or you'll see we shall get some bad luck."
"I defy the prophecy!" said Regina.
"Well, I hope I'll get through bringing up the little angel first! See what a beauty she is! See!"
Antonio woke, and before opening his eyes felt that Regina was looking at him, and he smiled.
"It must be very late!" he exclaimed, seeing the ray of sunshine.
"No; it's the sun which is earlier. It's a quarter to eight. Shall I ring for baby?"