But he had given her no reason--no excuse; he had flung his sin before her because he was ashamed, because he wanted his soul to be naked in her sight--because he knew that she would never fail him.
In the dark she caught sight of the hovering Peppina. “Signora,” Peppina pleaded, “will you not dine?”
Rose stood up. “Yes,” she said in a voice that sounded strange. “Yes, please, I will dine.”
The Pinsents always dined.
“Tell the Padrona,” Rose said steadily, “that the Signore has had to go to Naples on business. He will not return to-night.”
Peppina still hovered. “Si Signora,” she said, “and the black cat, the one I brought to the Signora earlier in the evening, he has found for himself the room of the Signora. Behold, he lies there curled-up on her bed. He is there now--a miracle! The Signora remembers that I told her ‘a black cat means good fortune’?”
Rose hurried into the room, and found him. He was not quite so good as her fox terrier at home, but he was a comfort. She buried her cheek against the round black ball of the fortunate kitten, and wept with easier tears.
Then she went down and had her dinner in the garden.
CHAPTER XIII
They sat on a terrace overlooking the most beautiful view in the world. They did not look at it, nor did they look at each other. They were beautifully dressed, they lived in the same world and spoke the same tongue; they would have laughed at, if they would not have made, the same jokes. The materials for happiness were heaped before them; but neither of them stretched out a hand to take them. They were both like creatures under an invisible ban.