As he went on talking the malicious sparkle in Elena’s eyes suddenly went out, and in its place came a look of avid interest that at moments increased to burning intensity.
“Poor fellow,” said Moreno, as he related how Pirovani had entrusted his entire fortune to him, making him the guardian of his only daughter who was at school in Italy, “poor fellow ... I find on looking through his papers that he was even better off than I thought. This responsibility he has left me is going to take most of my time, and I may have to resign from my position. I don’t even know that I’ll be able to come back here. Perhaps it will be a long time before we see one another again.”
The government employee grew sad at thought of this prolonged separation, although he managed to maintain the expression of intense self-satisfaction which he had worn ever since the day of the funeral.
“As poor old Pirovani left the management of his fortune to me, and as this house belongs to his heir, of whom I am the legal guardian, I am empowered, señora marquesa, to tell you that you may remain here as long as it suits your convenience, just as though it were your own house, and without any question of your paying a single cent for it. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, marquesa!”
Her inquiring eyes looked at him fixedly. It was difficult to conceal from him the surprise this news had caused her. Moreno, of all people, the trustee of the contractor’s fortune, and still dazed by the amount of the fortune so suddenly thrust into his possession, and about to return to a great city, there to begin a new kind of existence....
Little by little from the sea of her amazement new plans began to emerge like islands still of uncertain shape and in process of formation. Within her, a dividing process was going on; side by side with the woman of frivolous tastes, hungry for comforts and luxuries, emerged that other woman, the one of ferocious energy, capable of harsh resolution in difficult moments, the one who did not hesitate to commit cruelties. And this woman, as she became roused, was imperiously commanding her companion,
“Don’t let this man go away ... fate has sent him to you!”
Moreno, who was looking at her with more audacious eyes than in the days when he had no hope of ever being rich and powerful, saw a shadow on the señora marquesa’s face, as though an invisible cloud were passing over her. Then the corners of her mouth quivered, perhaps with pain, and she raised her hands to her eyes, as though to hide some tears.
Moreno got up from his chair to console her. He remembered, at sight of her mourning, that she must at that very moment be grieving over the death of her husband’s mother. And in addition to that bereavement there was the death of Pirovani, and Canterac’s flight, and so many distressing occurrences in so short a time ...!