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Updated: May 4, 2025
Lavinia was certain that if Gheta had not known of it the Spaniard would have been quickly dropped by the elder. She was suddenly conscious of the perfume he always bore; that, curiously, lent him a strange additional oppression. "Mochales," he said in a species of strained wonderment, "threatened ... thrown into the bay! Mochales the Flower of Spain!
The ridiculous coral charm hanging from his heavy watch chain, a violent green handkerchief, an insufferable cameo pin all contributed pleasurably to the lowering of her opinion of him. "I must find Gheta," she pronounced, suddenly aware of her isolation with Cesare Orsi in the crowd, and of curious glances. Orsi immediately took her arm, but she eluded him.
It was difficult for Cesare Orsi to conceal his opinions and feelings. The other man's gravity was superb. At dinner conversation languished. Gheta, in a very low dress, had a bright red scarf about her shoulders, and was painted. This was so unusual that it had almost the effect of a disguise; her eyes were staring and brilliant, her fingers constantly fidgeting and creasing her napkin.
A feeling of shame for her sister's ungraciousness possessed Lavinia and mounted to angry resentment. She had no particular desire to champion Cesare, but the simplicity and kindness of his thought demanded more than a superficial admission. At the same time she had no intention of permitting Gheta any display of superiority here.
His fine perfumed linen, the touch of scarlet at his waist, his extremely high-heeled patent-leather boots under soft uncreased trousers, served only to emphasize his resolute metal they resembled an embroidered and tasseled scabbard that held a keen, thin and dangerous blade. Anna Mantegazza extended her hand in the American fashion, and Gheta smiled from Lavinia saw her best facial angle.
The thrill at her heart deepened until tears wet her cheeks. It was for Gheta, but it overwhelmed Lavinia with a formless and aching emotion; it was for Gheta, but her response was instant and uncontrollable.
Occasionally she leaned forward, pressed upon Gheta's shoulder, for a hasty unsatisfactory glimpse. "You are crushing my sleeves!" Gheta finally and sharply complained. "Do go somewhere else. Anna and I want to talk without your young ears eternally about. When do you return to the convent?" Lavinia drew back. However, she didn't leave.
Above, Lavinia halted at the strange spectacle clearly drawn against the luminous depths of space of Mochales and her husband rigidly facing each other. "I must admit," Orsi said in an exasperated voice, "that I don't understand." Lavinia saw that he was holding something in a half-extended hand. Moving closer, she identified the object as the necklace he had given Gheta.
"Positively, Lavinia," Gheta insisted again, more crossly, "you're a nuisance! When do you go back to school?" "In a week," Lavinia answered serenely. With Bembo added to the others, she could see almost nothing of the scene below.
She had had a letter from Gheta that morning, the first from her sister since she had left Florence, brief but without any actual expression of ill will. After all was said, she had brought Gheta a great disappointment; if she had been in the elder's place probably she would have behaved no better.... It occurred to her to ask Gheta to Naples.
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