She was sure that she had been shut in a whole hour when Gandolfo came. Where had he been such a long time?
He had not been long at all. He had only been away five minutes.
“God! God! so that is being a prisoner; that is Gaetano’s life!” She burst into tears when she saw the open sky once more above her.
A while later, as they stood out on an open loggia, Gandolfo showed her a couple of windows with shutters and green shades.
“Does any one live there?” she asked.
“Yes, Donna Micaela, some one does.”
Gandolfo told her that a man lived there who never went out except at night,—a man who never spoke to any one.
“Is he crazy?” asked Donna Micaela.
“No, no; he is as much in his right mind as you or I. But people say that he has to conceal himself. He is afraid of the government.”
Donna Micaela was much interested in the man. “What is his name?” she said.