"And why not?"
"Because——. One day or another I'll tell you." And putting his arm through Luigi's he led him into the drawing-room of the Hotel Vittoria.
Such talks were frequent between them; on Cesare's side calm and ironical, on Luigi's sometimes a little bitter. On their family outings, Cesare always gave his arm to Laura, for he held it ridiculous for a husband to pair off with his wife; and Caracciolo would devote himself to Anna. Cesare would make him a sign of intelligence, laughing at his assiduity.
"Rigidly obeying orders, eh?" asked the sarcastic husband.
"Anyhow, it's she who's given me my orders," answered the other, sadly.
"But really, Anna, you're putting to death the handsomest lad in Christendom!" exclaimed Cesare.
"The world is the richer for those who die of love," she returned.
"Sentimental aphorism," said Cesare, with a cutting ironical smile.
And he went away to dance with Laura. Between Anna and Luigi there was a long silence. It was impossible for her to listen to these pleasantries without suffering. The idea that her husband could speak thus lightly of another man's love for her, the idea that he could treat as a worldly frivolity the daily siege that Caracciolo was laying to her heart, martyrised her. She was nothing to him, since he could allow another man to court her. He never showed a sign of jealousy, and jealousy pleases women even when they know it is not sincere. She was angry with Cesare as much as with Luigi.