"Yes?" said his sister, as he paused, hesitatingly.
"Well, Giacinta, you see, she had probably lost money through me, so I offered to—to make her loss good, so to say."
"And then?"
"Oh, and then she was very angry, and said that I insulted her. After that she cried. One does not like to see grown-up people cry; it is very unpleasant. She said that I did not understand; that what she had done was out of mere friendship and sympathy—for me and for Bianca. I knew she had grown attached to Bianca, Giacinta; she had told me so once before. After all, nobody who saw much of Bianca could help being fond of her."
Giacinta looked at him for a moment or two without speaking.
"I am not surprised that she was angry," she said, at length. "As to her being attached to Donna Bianca—well, it appears that even people who have not seen much of her become attached to that girl. It is a gift, I suppose. But all this does not tell me what you mean to do, now you can no longer employ Mademoiselle Durand to fetch and carry for you."
"We mean to wait," said Silvio, quietly. "Bianca and I are quite agreed as to that. Three years are soon over, and then, if she still chooses to marry me, neither the princess nor anybody else can prevent her. It is the best way, Giacinta, for it leaves her free, and then none can say that I took advantage of her inexperience."
"And in the mean time, if they marry her to somebody else?"
"But they will not. They cannot force her to marry. If they tried to do so, then we would not wait three years, nor even three weeks."
"But you might know nothing about it, Silvio," said Giacinta. "And they might tell her you had given her up, or that you were in love with some one else—anything, in fact, to make her think no more about you."