“Shall you return early, Signora?” said Giulietta.
She looked at her, dazed.
“... Yes, I think so.”
“What shall I say to the master?”
“There is ... yes, there is a note for him.”
She descended the stairs and entered the carriage. The coachman must have had his orders from Giulietta, for without waiting for further instructions he drove off through Via Sebastiano. Caterina, sitting on the edge of the cushion, without leaning back, had placed her bonnet and shawl opposite to her, and still kept her hand on the letter in her pocket. She felt the discomfort of the chill air that came in through the open window. She could not resist the impulse that led her, by the fugitive light of the street-lamps, to read Lucia’s letter over again for the sixth time. What with the movement of the carriage and the sudden shadows that succeeded the flashes of light, the written words jumped up and down; and Caterina felt them jumping in her brain, knocking against her brow and at the back of her head, beating in either temple. It was a tempest of little blows, a beating of the drum under her skull. Every now and then she bent her head, as if to escape it. She folded the paper; the sensation became less intense, died away, and stupefaction once more dulled her brain.
She mounted the stairs slowly, keeping a firm, mechanical hold on her shawl. She found the door wide open. In the anteroom the maid was talking with animation to the man-servant, emphasising her discourse by expressive gestures. When they saw her enter noiselessly, in indoor attire, without either bonnet or gloves, they became silent. Then she forgot where she was, halting in indecision. She no longer knew what she had come for, when the maid whispered to her that:
“The Signore was awaiting her.”
Of whom was she talking? Caterina looked fixedly at the maid, without the quiver of an eyelash.
“The poor Signore had again spat blood at about three o’clock. He noticed it this time. This evening, when he received the Signora’s letter, he turned red and screamed; he got very excited and coughed—and again spat blood, saving your presence.”