'But you are too, too wonderful!' cried Eleanor in amusement. 'Is it all grist that comes to your mill—sick oxen—or humans like me?'
The Contessa smiled, but she turned away her head.
'It was Emilio's craze,' she said abruptly. 'He knew every animal on the place. In his regiment they called him the "vet.," because he was always patching up the sick and broken mules. One of his last messages to me was about an old horse. He taught me a few things—and sometimes I am of use—till the farrier comes.'
There was a little silence, which the Contessa broke abruptly.
'I came, however, madame, to tell you something about myself. Teresa has made up her mind to leave me.'
'Your daughter?' cried Eleanor amazed. 'Fiancée?'
The Contessa shook her head.
'She is about to join the nuns of Santa Francesca. Her novitiate begins in
October. Now she goes to stay with them for a few weeks.'
Eleanor was thunderstruck.
'She leaves you alone?'