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Updated: May 24, 2025
" and Aubrey's eyes grew graver with the intensity of his thought "There is some secret but " he broke off with a puzzled air "I cannot explain it, so it is no use thinking about it! I went to Varillo's studio yesterday and asked if there had been any news of him but there was none. I wonder where the brute has gone!"
She raised her left hand and looked dreamily at the circlet of rubies on it Florian Varillo's betrothal ring. "I care for nothing," she said slowly. "Nothing now he is gone!" A bitter pang shot through Cyrillon's heart. He was quite silent. Presently she turned her eyes wistfully towards him. "Please do not think me ungrateful for all your kindness! but I cannot forget!"
"But Eccellenza my master is not here! . . ." Prince Pietro paying no heed to him, strode into the house, and brusquely threw open the door of a room which he knew to be Varillo's own specially private retreat. A woman with a mass of bright orange-gold hair, half-dressed in a tawdry blue peignoir trimmed with cheap lace, was sprawling lazily on a sofa smoking a cigarette.
Let it be enough I say! and I I also will be silent!" Cyrillon looked at him straightly. "Will you cease to persecute Cardinal Bonpre?" he demanded. "Will you admit Varillo's murderous treachery?" Gherardi bent his head. "I will!" he answered slowly, "because I must! Otherwise " He clenched his fist and his eyes flashed fire-then he went on "But beware of Lorenzo Moretti!
But he was secretly chafing at everything, he was angry that Sylvie had escaped him, and angrier still that Donna Sovrani should imply by her manner, if not by her words, that she considered him an exceptional villain, when he himself was aware that nearly all the men of his "Cercle" resembled him. "Pon-Pon is Signor Varillo's model," he said curtly, "I thought you were aware of it.
A dull red flush crept over Varillo's cheeks, his hand flenched the coverlet of his bed convulsively. "Lives!" He muttered. "She lives! Then it must be by a miracle! For I drove the steel deep . . . deep home!" Gherardi looked at him curiously, with the air of a scientist watching some animal writhing under vivisection.
Varillo's present state of mind was one of absolute torture, for he felt that whoever found the sheath of his dagger would at once recognise it and declare the owner. If Angela had only been wounded, if SHE had found it she would never have given up the name of its possessor, the miserable man knew her straight, pure soul intimately enough for that!
She was not told of Florian Varillo's death till she had been some days in the French capital, and then it was broken to her as gently as possible. But the result was disastrous. The strength she had slowly regained seemed now to leave her altogether, and she was stricken with a mute despair which was terrible to witness.
Varillo's servant admitted it to be his master's Varillo's mistress recognised it as her lover's a slight thing, Monsignor! but an uncomfortable witness! And if you dare to promulgate your lie against my daughter and her work, I will accuse you in the public courts of complicity in an attempted murder!
Looking at her sweet face, earnest eyes, and slim graceful figure now, as she moved away from Florian Varillo's side, and passed glidingly in and out among her guests, the Princesse D'Agramont, always watchful, wondered with a half sigh how she would take the blow of disillusion if it ever came; would it crush her, or would she rise the nobler and stronger for it?
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