“Oh, so much!” she answered, quite absorbed by the pleasure of it.
“There is Giovanna Casacalenda.”
“Where?”
“On the second tier, No. 3.”
“Ah! of course. Behind her is the Commendatore Gabrielli. Poor Giovanna.”
“The marriage is officially announced. But she does not look unhappy.”
“She dissembles.”
The second couple—Lieti, amateur, and Galeota, professional—appeared and placed themselves in position. Andrea was dressed in black cloth, with a yellow scarf and shoes, and chamois-leather gloves. His athletic figure showed to its utmost advantage in perfect vigour and harmony of form and line. He smiled up at the box, a second. Caterina had shrunk back a little out of sight, with eyes all but overflowing.
“Your husband is handsome to-day,” said Lucia, gravely. “He looks like a gladiator.”
Caterina nodded her thanks. Galeota, dark, slight and meagre, attacked slowly.