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Updated: June 13, 2025
Peter's, there was an Academia every week, where Marcello's Psalms were sung in concert by a number of male voices, besides other concerts, private and public. We did not make the acquaintance of any of the Roman families at this time; but we saw Pauline Borghese, sister of the Emperor Napoleon, so celebrated for her beauty, walking on the Pincio every afternoon.
The Signora accepted the fact that there were no birds that morning, and began to talk to Maddalena. Aurora got a book and pretended to read, but she was really listening for Marcello's footsteps, and wondering whether he would smile at her, or would still be cross when he came in.
She meant it, and he saw that she did. Her eyes shone as she spoke, and then the lids drooped a little and she looked at him almost fiercely. He turned from her and his fingers softly tapped the marble window-sill. He was asking himself whether he could swear to Marcello's identity, in case he should be called upon to give evidence. On what could he base his certainty?
She slipped from Marcello's side and left the room quickly, for they were going to drive down to the sea, to a little shooting-lodge that belonged to them near Nettuno, a mere cottage among the trees by the Roman shore, habitable only in April and May, and useful only then, when the quail migrate along the coast and the malarious fever is not yet to be feared.
They turned under the arches into the Palais Royal, and followed the long portico in silence, out to the Rue Vivienne and the narrow Rue des Petits Champs. Still Marcello did not speak, and without a word they reached the Avenue de l'Opéra. The light was very bright there, and Regina looked long at Marcello's face, and saw how white it was.
If Corbario lived, there would be a sensational trial in which he and Regina would be witnesses together, and Kalmon too, and very surely Aurora and her mother. For Aurora would be called upon to tell what she knew of Marcello's movements on the morning when he had been knocked down near the gap. Every moment of his past life would be publicly examined, to prove Corbario's guilt.
Moreover, as Marcello's understanding awoke, he realised that Folco had encouraged him in all he had done, and had not seemed pleased when he had begun to live more quietly. Folco would have made him his companion in pleasure, if he could, and the idea was horrible to Marcello as soon as it presented itself.
Will you tell me?" The vague look came into Marcello's eyes, and then the look of pain, and he shook his head rather feebly. "I cannot remember," he answered at last. "It hurts me to remember." "Is it Consalvi?" asked the officer, smiling encouragement. "Consalvi?" Marcello's eyes wandered, as he tried to think. "I cannot remember," he said again after an interval.
Corbario laid his hand nervously on his companion's arm, and stood still for a moment, holding his breath and leaning forward a little, his gaze riveted on Marcello's face. Regina had never before seen a man transfixed with fear. He moved a step towards the bed, and then another, forcing himself to go on. Then Marcello turned his head and looked at him vacantly.
She was to find out "at any cost"; those had been Marcello's words, and she supposed he knew that she would obey him to the letter. For she said to herself that he was the master, and that if she did not obey him in such a matter, when he seemed so much in earnest, he would be disappointed, and angry, and would then grow quickly tired of her, and so the end would come.
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