Anna went home as happy as if she had recovered a lost treasure. And yet Cesare Dias had been cold and distant. But what did that matter to Anna? She had got back her treasure; that was all. Again she would enjoy his dear presence, she would hear his voice, she would sit near to him, she would speak with him, answer him; he would come again every day, at his accustomed hour; she could please herself with the fancy that that hour was sacred to him, as it was to her. Nothing else mattered. It was true that she had met him by the merest chance; it was true, that had chance ordered otherwise, a fortnight might have passed without her seeing him. It was true, that he had taken no pains to bring about their meeting. It was true, also, that she and Stella had as much as begged him to call upon them. But in all this he had been so like himself, his conduct had been so characteristic, that Anna was glad of it. It was a great thing to have made her peace with him, without having had to write to him.
"Signor Dias was looking very well," said Stella Martini, "we shall see him to-morrow."
"Yes, to-morrow," said Anna, smiling.
"I missed him immensely during his long absence."
"So did I."
"You're very fond of him, aren't you?" Stella inquired ingenuously.
"Yes," answered Anna, after a little hesitation.
"He's so good—in spite of the things he says," observed the governess.
"He is as he is," murmured Anna, with a gesture.
When they got home, Laura noticed Anna's air of radiant joy. Anna moved about the room, without putting by her hat or muff.