“In one sense, of course, I know that they are poor,” said the Marchesa Pescobaldi impatiently. “Every time I come to Monte Carlo I miss something from La Solitude. We went into the drawing-room for a moment last night, and I at once saw that there was only one ebony cabinet where there used to be two. Next time I come doubtless the mirrors will have gone! Yes, I realise that in a sense the Poldas are poor. But what I want to know is, where do they get the money with which they supply Beppo?”
She looked very searchingly at Lily Fairfield. And, as in a flash, Lily remembered that strange, painful interchange of words she had overheard between Beppo and his mother on the day of his arrival—how he had taunted her with not having sent as much money as he had expected. But for that she would have denied absolutely that Aunt Cosy and Uncle Angelo could ever send Beppo money.
“You know, I suppose, that at irregular intervals they do send large sums to their son?”
“No, I did not know that,” said Lily.
She spoke in no very determined voice, and the Marchesa, looking at her flushed face, made up her mind that she was not telling the truth.
“Well, Lily, whether you know it or not, it is so! They have ardently desired, ever since I knew them, that Beppo should marry a very rich woman——” She stopped dead and looked straight into Lily’s eyes. But the girl’s expression did not alter; she evidently did not see into the speaker’s heart—or could it be that she was very, very cunning, with a marvellous power of keeping her own counsel? The Marchesa could not make up her mind.
“Up to now Beppo has disappointed them,” she went on. “I have done my best—that I can swear! For, at any rate, the last three years I have done my best to find him a rich wife. Meanwhile, I do not say often, I do not even say at regular intervals, but now and again, Beppo receives from his mother a considerable sum of money. I have an important reason for wishing to know where that money comes from.”
Again she looked searchingly at Lily, and at last the girl answered in a low, reluctant voice, “Honestly, I can’t tell you; in fact, I can hardly believe that they can ever give him what I would call a considerable sum of money. They live so very simply; they are so obviously poor.”
It made her uncomfortable that she and a stranger should be discussing the Count and Countess’s private affairs in this way.
“What does their son think himself?” she said at last, “surely he must know!”