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Updated: June 6, 2025
In her new and intolerable loneliness Corona's heart yearned after her own people. But she was too timid to make any advances, and Meredith never made any. Corona believed that he hated her, and let slip her last fluttering hope that the old breach would ever be healed. "Oh, dear! oh, dear!" she sobbed softly into her pillows.
Those were miserable days, never to be forgotten, and each morning and evening brought worse news of Corona's state, until it was clear, even to Giovanni, that she was dangerously ill. The sound of voices grew rare in the Palazzo Saracinesca and the servants moved noiselessly about at their work, oppressed by the sense of coming disaster, and scarcely speaking to each other.
The baby received all this love with delight, leaping and dancing in Corona's arms, then gazing at her with intense eyes, and crowing and prattling in inarticulate and unintelligible language, of some happy, incommunicable news, some joyful message it would deliver if it could. "Come, Cora. We are waiting for you, my dear," sounded the voice of Mr. Fabian in the hall outside.
Nevertheless he was thoughtful, and his expression was not one of unmingled gladness, as he threaded the streets on his way home; for his mind reverted to Del Ferice and to Donna Tullia, and Corona's fierce look was still before him.
Not a little, too, was due to good luck, since the least difference in the course of events must have led to immediate discovery. A little thought led him to a conclusion which wounded his pride while it explained Corona's behaviour.
Corona's manner irritated him therefore, and made him think more than ever of the subject which he would have done better to abandon from the first. Nevertheless, he would not show that he was wearied by his wife's attention, still less that he believed her behaviour to be prompted by a desire to deceive him.
Sister Gabrielle saw a wonderful change in Corona's face that afternoon when they drove up the valley together, and she remarked what wonderful effect a little variety had upon her companion's spirits she could not say upon her health, for Corona seemed made of velvet and steel, so smooth and dark, and yet so supple and strong.
But Faustina shivered and turned paler still at Corona's words. "By those I love? Ah no! Not by him by them!" The blood rushed to her white face, and her hand fell on her friend's shoulder. Corona heard and knew that the girl was thinking of Anastase.
They were sitting in the moonlit gloom of Corona's room, and Frances felt confidential. She had expected to feel badly and cry a little while she told it. But she did not, and before she was half through, it did not seem as if it were worth telling after all. Corona was deeply sympathetic. She did not say a great deal, but what she did say put Frances on better terms with herself.
His position when in Corona's company grew every day more difficult, and he thought as he stood by the stone pillar at the corner that he would on the whole be glad if she did not come. He was egregiously mistaken in himself, however.
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