She frightened that terrible trio! Of all her wondrous beauty nothing remained but her fine eyes, dimmed and sunken. The only thing faithful to her was misfortune.
She was welcomed by the skilled old instrument mender, who greeted her with unspeakable joy.
“Why, here you are, my poor Marianna!” said he, warmly. “During your absence they sold up my instrument and my operas.”
It would have been difficult to kill the fatted calf for the return of the Samaritan, but Giardini contributed the fag end of a salmon, the trull paid for wine, Gambara produced some bread, Signora Giardini lent a cloth, and the unfortunates all supped together in the musician’s garret.
When questioned as to her adventures, Marianna would make no reply; she only raised her beautiful eyes to heaven and whispered to Giardini:
“He married a dancer!”
“And how do you mean to live?” said the girl. “The journey has ruined you, and——”
“And made me an old woman,” said Marianna. “No, that is not the result of fatigue or hardship, but of grief.”
“And why did you never send your man here any money?” asked the girl.
Marianna’s only answer was a look, but it went to the woman’s heart.