What would Marianna reply? She would probably laugh.
And suppose none of it were true?
Pride pierced Regina's soul and destroyed the half-formed, indecorous, senseless project.
"Neither Marianna nor any one. I will find out myself."
But after a few moments the turmoil in her thoughts recommenced, and she formed other romantic and irrational projects.
She would follow Antonio.
Some fine night he would go out, and, after strolling hither and thither for an hour, he would open the iron gate leading to Madame's garden, the gate of which Massimo had said, "Here is the entrance for her lovers."
Antonio would go in. Regina would wait outside in the deserted street, in the shadow of the corner. Some one would pass and look at her with brutal eyes, imagining her a night wanderer; but she would take no offence. Why should she take offence? Was she not lower than the lowest of night wanderers? Were not her very clothes woven of shame?
Hours of silent torture would pass.