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And then somehow it fell open, at a page that was marked by the insertion of an empty envelope. The envelope caught Anthony's eye, and held it; and that was scarcely to be wondered at, for, in his own unmistakable handwriting, it was addressed to Madame Torrebianca, at the New Manor, Craford, England, and its upper corner bore an uncancelled twenty-five centime Italian postage-stamp.
"This bosom is a sealed sanctuary for the confidences of those who confide in me. Besides, when I 'm with Madame Torrebianca, believe me, we have other subjects of conversation than the poor Squire o' Craford." "You see," said Anthony, "for the lark of the thing, I should like, for the present, to leave her in ignorance of my connection with Sampaolo." "That's right," cried Adrian.
"I believe you are the master of the house?" "The titular master," Anthony distinguished. "I years ago resigned all real power into the pink and chubby hands of my mayor of the palace." And he slightly bowed. "I disdain to answer your silly quibble over the word guest," Adrian continued, ignoring the rejoinder. "La Nobil Donna Susanna Torrebianca is a guest.
You call that young?" he asked, with the inflection of one who was open to be convinced. Adrian bridled. "You deliberately put a false construction on my words. I was alluding to Miss Sandus, as you 're perfectly well aware. Madame Torrebianca is n't seventy-four, nor anything near it. She's not twenty-four. Say about twenty-five and a fraction. With such hair too and such frocks and eyes.
Anthony's interest appeared to wake a little. Adrian laughed. "I expected that would rouse you. A Madame Torrebianca." "Ah?" said Anthony; and his interest appeared to drop. "Yes la Nobil Donna Susanna Torrebianca. Is n't that a romantic name? A lady like the heroine of some splendid old Italian story, like Pompilia, like Francesca, like Kate the Queen, when her maiden was binding her tresses.
Torrebianca, I need n't remind those who are familiar with Sampaolo, is the name of a mountain, a bare, white, tower-like peak of rock, that rises in the middle of the island, the apex of the ridge separating the coast of Vallanza from the coast of Orca. "Madame Torrebianca? La Nobil Donna Susanna Torrebianca?" She tried the name on her tongue. "Yes, for an impromptu, Torrebianca is n't bad.
"Dear me," she grieved; "I hoped you would be touched by the compliment. How strange men are. Never mind, though," she said, with gay resignation. "I 'll call myself something else. Let's think. . . . Would would Torrebianca do?" Her eyes sought counsel from his face.
And I 'm not such a silly as to forbear to gather them. I think I shall make Madame Torrebianca the object of my respectful solicitations." Anthony fixed eyes of derision on him. "Oh, the fatuity of the man!" he jeered. "If you could see yourself. You 're sandy-haired and miles too fat." "I beg your pardon," said Adrian, with dignity.
And he said, "I rather hope it is Madame Torrebianca since one has got to know her. She looks as if she might have a spice of something in her not utterly banale." If that was n't saying a great deal, he reflected, one seldom enough, in our staid, our stale society, meets a person of whom one can say so much; and again dismissed her.
"The lady he is engaged to in England," said Susanna, "guess who she is. I give it to you in a million." "How the devil can I guess who she is?" said the Commendatore. "Well, then, listen," said Susanna. "You must n't faint, or explode, or anything but the lady he's engaged to in England is your old friend that bold adventuress, that knightess errant the widow Torrebianca."
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