With a vague bow she seemed to greet these dreams and follies so old and far away, so dead and scattered. The mother-in-law was silent, wrapped in the ideas and sentiments suggested by her daughter-in-law, which crowded her mind. The dinner finished, Donna Arduina rose to take leave of Vittoria.
“Will you let me keep you company, mother?” Vittoria asked.
“Certainly, dear; do come.”
Presently both were seated in Donna Arduina’s ancient room, under the large oil lamp covered with a shade.
While the old lady persevered with her woollen petticoat for some poor woman, Vittoria resumed work on a bodice, also destined to clothe some poor unfortunate in winter. They remained a little without raising their eyes from the brown bundles of wool, which kept increasing under their hands.
“Vittoria!” cried Donna Arduina suddenly.
“Mother?”
“Are you displeased that Marco didn’t return to dinner this evening?”
“No.”