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IWENTtotheMoratiniPalace,andwithbeatingheartlookedroundforGiulia.Shewassurroundedbyherusualcourt,andseemedmorelivelyandexcitedthanever.Ihadneverseenhermorebeautiful.Shewasdressedallinwhite,andhersleevesweresewnwithpearlsshelookedlikeabride.Shecaughtsightofmeatonce,butpretendednottoseeme,andwentontalking.
IapproachedherbrotherAlessandroandsaidtohimcasually,—
'IamtoldacousinofyoursisterhascometoForli.Ishehereto-day?'
Helookedatmeinquiringly,notimmediatelyunderstanding.
'Giorgiodall'Aste,'Iexplained.
'Oh,Ididn'tknowyoumeanthim.No,he'snothere.HeandGiulia'shusbandwerenotfriends,andso—'
'Whyweretheynotfriends?'Iinterrupted,onthespurofthemoment,notseeingtheimpertinenceofthequestiontillIhadmadeit.
'Oh,Idon'tknow.Relationsalwaysareatenmitywithoneanotherprobablysomedisagreementwithregardtotheirestates.'
'Wasthatall?'
'SofarasIknow.'
Irecollectedthatinascandalthepersonsmostinterestedarethelasttohearit.Thehusbandhearsnothingofhiswife'streacherytillallthetownknowseverydetail.
'Ishouldliketohaveseenhim,'Iwenton.
'Giorgo?Oh,he'saweaksortofcreatureoneofthosemenwhocommitsinsandrepent!'
'Thatisnotafaultofwhichyouwilleverbeguilty,Alessandro,'I
