Lucia fell back against her cushion and half closed her eyes.
“Surely,” thought Andrea, “it’s another woman, with that round white throat set in its frame of lace.”
“Andrea, Andrea,” cried Caterina, from the bedroom.
He started, and shrugged his shoulders, as if to shake off a weight, glanced at Lucia, who seemed to be dreaming with closed eyes, and went away. There was a short whispered discussion between husband and wife in the adjoining room. It was suddenly interrupted by Andrea, who was stifling his laughter, pouncing upon his wife and kissing her behind her ear. Caterina defended herself by pointing to Giuditta, who was putting on her hat before the glass.
“It all depends on her,” he said, in an undertone, as he re-entered the drawing-room.
“Signora Lucia, are you asleep?”
“No, I never sleep.”
“Caterina wants you a moment, in there.”
“What does she want?”
“I know, but have been ordered not to tell.”