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Updated: June 27, 2025
As though a good destiny had anticipated her desire, the first call for her help came suddenly, on the day after the last recorded conversation between Gregorio and Matilde. It was still early in the morning when Elettra brought her a letter, bearing the postmark of the city, and addressed in one of those small, clear handwritings which seem naturally to belong to scholars and students.
She knew that by this time Elettra must have returned from her errands. The afternoon light was already failing. She held out her hand, and he took it and kept it for a moment. "God preserve you," he repeated earnestly. He turned just as Elettra opened the door. The woman recognized him at once, came forward and kissed his hand, he having long been her parish priest. Then she led the way out.
Here are twenty francs for the jet, but you will not need so much. You understand, do you?" "Yes, Excellency." Elettra stuck the little slip of paper, on which the recipe was written, into her shabby pocket-book without looking at it.
Then she lay down again and called Elettra, and bade her prepare her own belongings and then come and dress her, when she should have finished. "Yes, Excellency." That was almost all that the woman had said, since she had boiled the eggs for her mistress's luncheon, and Veronica herself did not speak except to give an order about some detail of the packing.
Elettra left the room, and Matilde settled herself to make the tea, as women do, raising her elbow a little on each side and then dropping them again, bending her face down to see whether the lamp were burning well, opening the teapot, pouring a little hot water into it, opening and shutting the tea-caddy, and settling each spoon in each saucer in a dainty and utterly futile way.
She felt that she had been fully justified in what she had said to Taquisara. At the same time she was half conscious of being disappointed in the man, and of being wounded by the disappointment. She left Bianca's house early, and as she drove away to the railway station alone with Elettra, she felt that her life was only now really beginning.
But she told Elettra to go out and buy a little crape to put on the black frock, and to send for dressmakers to make mourning things quickly. The confusion in the house had subsided into stillness. Bosio Macomer was in his coffin. The servants were exhausted, and there was no one to direct.
Bosio dead?" she cried in a voice that was almost a scream. The woman was sensible and understood her, and by that time the household was quiet, so that there was no fear lest any one else should come to Veronica's room. But when she was quite sure of what had happened, Veronica wept bitterly for a long time, burying her face in her pillows and refusing to listen any more to Elettra.
After she had eaten a little and drunk some wine, she felt stronger and wrote a line to the Princess Corleone, asking the latter to receive her for a few days, as she was in trouble. In an hour she had an answer. Bianca, of course, was ready for her whenever she might come. Elettra quickly began to pack such things as her mistress might need immediately.
A drawer in a piece of furniture stood open as Matilde had left it, and as Elettra passed, she dropped the package in, and with a movement of her hand covered it with some folded handkerchiefs, from a little heap, shutting the drawer with a quick push. Neither Matilde nor the doctor saw her do it. As Elettra spoke to the doctor, the countess started at the sound of her voice.
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