“And now?” Marco asked absent-mindedly.
Suddenly he repented of the remark. Maria’s large eyes, proud and ardent, were veiled in tears.
“Now no longer,” she said, still as if in a dream.
“It is you who avoid her,” he said, trying to repair the mischief.
“It is I, yes,” she said, awakening suddenly, in a clear voice. “I did not wish her to cut me. The English are faithful, I know. But still she is an ambassadress and sees lots of people, even bad people.”
He shook his head melancholily, as if he thought, “What is to be done? These are fatal matters to discuss.”
“And you, Marco, why are you going?” Maria questioned, with an increase of hardness.
“My mother is going there, so——”
“But she has your sister-in-law for company?”
“Yes, Beatrice is accompanying her; but both have no escort.”