“Poor Vittoria!” she murmured.
And she thought that the young woman ought to fall in her arms and break into tears and sobs. No. The blonde’s youthful mouth contracted like a flower which closes while the colours grow pale, but she did not move nor cry.
“Do you pity me, mother?” she asked strangely.
“Yes, dear, yes!”
“Like your son, then. It is a family habit,” replied Vittoria mockingly.
“Vittoria! Vittoria!”
“Excuse me, mother. My horrible destiny is caused from this horrible thing, pity.”
“What are you saying? What are you saying?”
“Nothing, mother mine; I’ll say no more. I don’t want to say anything more. Pardon me. I oughtn’t to have spoken. You asked me; in obedience I spoke. Let me be quite silent.”
“Oh daughter, daughter, what a difficult character is yours!” replied the elder lady, with a deep sigh.