“I ought to scold you Boris, my friend,” she said. “You are not fit to go out at all, and it will be such a trial for you. But, altro, you must have your way as usual! Give him your arm, uncle. Come, Giulia.”
Outside the court they parted from the reluctant and trembling Giulia, leaving her in charge of the kindly postmistress, Mrs. Cave, who was also to give evidence, and promised to take charge of her in the witnesses’ room.
A big crowd had assembled waiting for the public doors to open, but Cacciola and his companions were admitted through the official entrance, and given seats in the front row, just above and behind the solicitors’ table.
A few minutes later such spectators as could be accommodated swarmed in, pushing for places; and presently the body of the little court began to fill up, as solicitors, clerks, and reporters drifted in and took their places.
Boris Melikoff, on one side of Cacciola, sat with his hands in his pockets, his chin sunk on his breast, giving no heed to anyone at present; but Maddelena, on the other side, watched with lively though decorous interest, whispering many questions and comments to her uncle.
“That is Mr. Starr, a journalist,” said Cacciola as Austin appeared and betook himself to the Press table.
“He who spoke with me on the telephone? He is very good-looking. I think I like him! Ah, he sees us!”
For Austin, surveying the eager, curious faces of the crowd, again mainly composed of smart women, saw the group in front, and exchanged a nod of greeting with Cacciola. Then his eyes met Maddelena’s frank, inquiring gaze. For several seconds—that seemed longer to Austin—they looked full at each other, till she drooped her long, black lashes demurely, her lips relaxing in a faint smile. The startled admiration she thought she discerned in his glance amused and did not surprise her. She was used to creating such an impression, for, though not in the least vain, she was fully conscious of her beauty. She did not imagine that he had ever seen her before, and that his interest in her was deeper and more complex than that which an exceptionally pretty girl inspires in most men, young or old.
When she stole another glance at him he was no longer looking in her direction, but was listening with frigid courtesy to a fair-haired woman in a seal coat and expensive hat, who had just come in with a tall, thin, grey-haired man, and was looking up coquettishly into Austin’s glum face, as she spoke in a rapid undertone.
“Who is that?” demanded Maddelena.