"Hermione, I don't know what to say. That we should be at the fair the day you arrived! Why—why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you write?"
"You didn't know, then!"
The words came very quickly, very eagerly.
"Know! Didn't Lucrezia tell you that we had no idea?"
"Poor Lucrezia! She's in a dreadful condition. I found her in the village."
"No!" Maurice cried, thankful to turn the conversation from himself, though only for an instant. "I specially told her to stay here. I specially——"
"Well, but, poor thing, as you weren't expecting me! But I wrote, Maurice, I wrote a letter telling you everything, the hour we were coming—"
"It's Don Paolo!" exclaimed Gaspare, angrily. "He hides away the letters. He lets them lie sometimes in his office for months. To-morrow I will go and tell him what I think; I will turn out every drawer."
"It is too bad!" Maurice said.
"Then you never had it?"