"It's a pity," murmured Papa, "that you did not embrace the faith, my dear, for then we might arrange this matter. They used to manage these things in the old days."
"Send Julietta into a convent?" cried Mamma in a voice of sudden energy.
Maria could not see but she knew that the Count shrugged.
"She appears built to coif Saint Catherine," he murmured.
"Julietta is a dear girl," said the Contessa in a warm voice.
"When one knows her excellencies."
"She will do very well—with enough dowry."
"Enough dowry—that is it! It will take all that is left for the two of them to push Julietta into a husband's arms!"
When the Count was annoyed he dealt directly with facts—a proceeding he preferred to avoid at other moments.
Behind her curtains Maria drew a troubled breath. She, too, felt the family responsibility for Julietta—dear Julietta, with her dumpy figure and ugly face. Julietta was nineteen and now that Lucia was betrothed it was Julietta's turn.