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"I took the opportunity, because I knew there would be no quail with this wind." "Marcello will come in when he is hungry," said Aurora, rather sharply, because she really felt sorry. But Marcello did not come in. Soon after eight o'clock his mother appeared on the verandah. Folco dropped his newspaper and hastened to make her comfortable in her favourite chair.
"What is the name of the stepson?" asked Paoluccio. "Consalvi," Ercole replied. Paoluccio said nothing to this, but lit his pipe again with a sulphur match. "Evil befall the soul of our government!" he grumbled presently, with insufficient logic, but meaning that the government sold bad tobacco. "You must have heard of the young gentleman," Ercole said. "His name is Marcello Consalvi.
After the departure of Federigo, Taddeo continued to work in fresco all that summer in the chapel of S. Marcello; and for that chapel, finally, he painted in the altar-piece the Conversion of S. Paul.
After Folco had killed his wife and had just failed to kill Marcello, he had behaved with wonderful calm and propriety for a little while; but before long the old wild longing for excitement and dissipation, so long kept down during his married life, had come upon him with irresistible force, and he had yielded to it.
So she lived, and so she learned many things of Settimia, and looked upon herself as the absolute property of the man she loved and had saved; and she was perfectly happy, if not perfectly good. "When I am of age," Marcello used to say, "I shall buy a beautiful little palace near the Tiber, and you shall live in it." "Why?" she always asked. "Are we not happy here?
Some people thought that it was odd that the Signora Corbario, who was a saint if ever there was one, should have grown so fond of the Contessa, for the latter had seen stormy days in years gone by; and of course the ill-disposed gossips made up their minds that the Contessa was trying to catch Marcello for her daughter Aurora, though the child was barely seventeen.
Regina would feel that she was protected by Marcello's friend, and though she might rarely see him, it would be better for her than to be lodged in a house where she knew no one. Kalmon was a bachelor and a man of assured position, and it had cost him nothing to undertake to give Regina his protection; but Marcello was deeply grateful. He had already made up his mind as to what he would do next.
The valet asked if the youth at the hospital, of whom Corbario had told him, were really Marcello. The footman answered that none of the servants thought so, after they had all been taken to see him. Having exchanged these confidences in the half-dumb language which servants command, they reached the gate.
For an instant her lip quivered, and she thought she was going to cry, though she had never cried in her life, except for rage and when she had been a little girl. She shook her handsome head impatiently at the mere sensation, and held it higher than ever. Then Marcello looked up at last. As their eyes met they heard the tinkle of the little bell.
He was astonished at her beauty, and at once decided that she had a romantic attachment for Marcello, and probably knew all about him. He leaned back in his chair, and pointed to a seat near him. "Pray sit down," he said. "I wish to have a little talk with you before you go upstairs to see Marcello." "How is he?" asked Regina, eagerly. "Is he worse?" "He is much better.
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