“Just so.... The handkerchief. A pretty conjugal amenity!”
“It was I who threw the handkerchief, Signor Andrea, in my enthusiasm. You were wonderful to-day—the first champion of the tournament.”
Andrea had not a word to say. He calmed down at once, with a vague smile. Caterina breathed freely once more.
Alberto Sanna returned and offered his arm to Caterina; Andrea assisted Lucia in putting on her cloak. She, with face uplifted towards his, her eyes, through their long lashes, fixed on his, and a slight quiver in her nostrils, leant on him imperceptibly, just sufficiently to graze his shoulder, as she drew on her coat-sleeves.
V.
“Is it you, Galimberti? Pray come in.”
“Am I not disturbing you?” and, as usual, he stumbled over the rug, and then sat down, hat in hand, one glove off and the other on, but unbuttoned.
“You never disturb me.” Her tone was the cold, monotonous one of ill-humour.
“You were thinking?” ventured the dwarf, after a short silence.
“Yes, I was thinking ... but I don’t remember about what.”