The Countess hurried out of the kitchen. And then Cristina seized Lily by the arm; “You will say a prayer for me,” she said in a trembling voice, “will you not, Mademoiselle?”
Lily was touched. “Yes,” she said, a little shyly, “I will certainly do so, Cristina.”
“I shall never forget yesterday—never—never—never!” Cristina uttered the words in a low voice, but with a terrible intensity.
“But you must try and forget yesterday,” said Lily firmly. “I mean to force myself to put out of my mind what happened yesterday morning. That, honestly, was much worse than anything that can have happened to you afterwards.”
“Yes, indeed! Had I been you I should have fainted!”
At that moment, “Lily! Lily!” came from the passage. “Come, my child, come! Your Uncle Angelo is quite ready.”
Lily ran into the corridor, and then, had it not been such a sad occasion, she would have burst out laughing! For the Count was dressed in an extraordinary costume. He wore a seedy old black dress suit, and on his head was a dirty white Panama hat with a deep black crape band. But Uncle Angelo was obviously quite unaware of the ludicrous effect he produced in the English girl’s eyes.
“Come, come,” he said impatiently. “I want to be in good time at the cemetery, for I shall have to leave at once after the funeral. There are several things I have to do in the town.”
“Do not forget to order the carriage for Beppo to-morrow,” called out the Countess.
“Is it likely that I should forget that?” There was a touch of scornful ill-temper in the Count’s usually placid tone.