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Updated: May 4, 2025
"You always satisfied me, Lavinia, with your dark smooth plait and white simplicity; you were cool and refreshing. Now they have made you only disturbing. I suppose it was inevitable, and with you the change will be temporary." "I'll never let my hair down again," she retorted. "I've settled that with Gheta. Mother didn't care, really."
"You need only say they were from Cesare," she observed coldly; "with him, it is always pearls." Such a tide of pleasure swept over her husband's countenance that Lavinia bit her lip in annoyance. She had intended only to rebuke Gheta and had not calculated the effect of her speech upon Cesare. She was scrupulously careful not to mislead the latter with regard to her feeling for him.
"What!" she demanded directly. "Didn't he " "Yes," Sanviano replied, "he did! He wants to marry Lavinia." Lavinia half rose, with a horrified protest; Gheta seemed suddenly turned to stone; the knitting fell unheeded from the marchesa's lap. Sanviano spread out his hands helplessly. "Well," he demanded, "what could I do?... A man with Orsi's blameless character and the Orsi banks!"
A glow like a thumb print hung over Vesuvius; the hidden column of smoke smudged the stars. Lavinia grew restless and descended to her room, where she procured a fan. Returning, she was partly startled by a pale still figure in the gloom of a passage. She saw that it was Gheta, and spoke; but the other moved away without reply and quickly vanished.
Orsi looked on without any emotion visible on his heavy face. Anna Mantegazza leaned forward, tense with interest. "Bravo!" she called. Gheta Sanviano smiled. The bull did not see Mochales at first, then the man cried tauntingly. The bull turned and stood with a lowered slowly-moving head, an uneasy tail.
I should have realized that a girl, charming like yourself, couldn't care for a mound of fat." Her tenderness rose till it choked in her throat, blurred what she had to say. "Cesare," she told him, "Gheta was right; at one time I was in love with Mochales." He turned with a startled exclamation; but she silenced him.
She was sixteen, and would have to endure another year of obscurity before her marriage could be thought of, or she take any part in the social life where Gheta moved with such marked success. But, Lavinia realized with a sigh, she couldn't expect to be pursued like Gheta, who was very beautiful.
Anna Mantegazza was laughing at a puzzled expression on the good-natured countenance of Cesare Orsi; Gheta was slowly waving a fan of gilded feathers; Abrego y Mochales was standing rigid and somberly handsome; and, as usual, Pier Mantegazza was late.
The Spaniard regarded Gheta Sanviano so fixedly that after a moment she turned, in a species of constraint, to Anna. The latter spoke with her customary facility and the man responded gravely. They stood a little aside from Lavinia; she only partly heard their remarks, but she saw that Abrego y Mochales' attention never strayed from her sister. Vicariously it made her giddy.
Gheta replied at a sudden tangent: "Mochales has been a great nuisance." Lavinia was gazing through an opening in the leaves at the sparkling blue plane of the bay. She made no movement, aware of her sister's unsparing curiosity turned upon her, and only said: "Really?" "Spaniards are so tempestuous," Gheta continued; "he's been whispering a hundred mad schemes in my ear.
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