“My old boss, don Pirovani, wants to see the marquesa. He seems to be in a hurry.”
Richard stood up to go. Elena gave him to understand that she would get rid of the intruder in short order. But the young man had regained his composure, and, aware of the peril he had just escaped, he asked for nothing better than to make use of the opportunity to escape. He didn’t want to stay alone with her again! At the door he almost fell over the contractor who came in, bowing from afar to the “señora marquesa.” Watson shook hands with him and hurried away.
Elena scarcely took the trouble to hide her anger at this inopportune call, and received the Italian with quite obvious ill-humor.
She remained standing to indicate that his stay was to be short, but pre-occupied by his own troubles, he asked if he might sit down, and before Elena could reply, he sank into a chair. Elena merely leaned against the edge of the table.
“My husband is ill,” she said, “and I must look after him. It isn’t anything to worry about ... just an unfortunate occurrence in his family. But now let’s talk about you. What brings you here at this hour?”
Pirovani delayed answering, in order to make his words more impressive when he did finally utter them.
“The señor Canterac says that after what happened this afternoon we must have a duel to the death.”
Elena was thinking only of Watson, and this man’s arrival, putting the young American to flight, made her tremble with nervousness. But for his news, she had only a slight shrug. It really didn’t interest her! Then she tried to conceal her indifference by saying,
“I don’t see anything so strange about that. If I were a man I would do the same.”
Pirovani, who up to that time had been uncertain as to how he felt about Canterac’s challenge, got up with an air of tremendous resolution.