The Contessa, very pale, put down her scissors; she trembled violently.
"I think it would be better to separate them," Zoë remarked very calmly.
"I will try to," gasped Madame Capriani, and opening the door into the next room, she called, "Mon-ami, the Baroness Melkweyser is here--I believe she brings you some news ...."
"Il s'agit de votre fameuse affaire, mon cher comte," Zoë called coaxingly.
Her words produced a magical effect; both men made their appearance, the father with a honeyed smile, the son, a short thick-set fellow with handsome features but a rude ill-tempered air, frowning and sullen.
"Bon soir baronne."
"Bon soir."
"Eh bien?" and settling himself in an arm-chair, his legs outstretched, and toying with his double eyeglass in the triumphant attitude with which he was wont to contemplate the favourable development of some particularly clever business transaction, Capriani began, "So you have at last found a favourable opportunity."
"No,--no, not at all!" said Zoë, "but I thought best not to leave you in uncertainty any longer, and so I came to you this evening."
"You know I gave you no authority to make a direct proposal," said the Conte.