this morning. Puria knows why."

"Dear, dear!" said Puria softly. "Of course it was a terrible tragedy."

Silence. The prefect bowed to the Marchesa, saluted Signor Pasotti with
an expression that said: "You and I understand each other," and left the
room.

The curate of Puria, who was possessed of a big body and a level head,
was studying the Marchesa without appearing to do so. Was she or was
she not affected by the events at Oria? Her having refrained from
playing seemed to him a doubtful symptom. She might have done so simply
out of respect for her own flesh and blood. On closer observation the
curate noticed that her hands trembled; this was unusual. She forgot to
ask Pasotti if the wine was good; this also was unusual. Her face with
its waxen mask, twitched violently from time to time; this was extremely
unusual. "She is touched!" thought the curate. As she was perfectly
silent, and as Signora Pasotti and Paolon were also silent, the whole
group seemed turned to stone. Puria cast about for a means of breaking
the ice, but could find nothing better than to induce those three heads
to turn towards the card-table, while he commented upon Pasotti's
exclamations, upon Paolin's and Signor Giacomo's ejaculations and
puffings. The Marchesa roused herself somewhat, and expressed her
satisfaction that the players were enjoying themselves. Barborin neither
heard nor spoke a word, so the three others ended by talking about her.
The Marchesa complained that she was so deaf it was impossible to
converse with her. The other two lavished upon her all the praise she so
richly deserved, the praise all those who remember her still lavish upon
her. There she sat, sad and speechless, never suspecting that she was
the subject of their conversation. The Lord protected her profound and
simple meekness, by never allowing the praises of the world to enter
into her ears, but only the scoldings of her worthy consort.

Her great, sorrowful black eyes brightened when Signor Giacomo uttered a
loud and final puff, and his companions, dropping their cards, threw
themselves back in their respective chairs to rest a little and reflect
upon the delights of the game. At last her master approached the sofa,
and motioned to her to rise. For the first time in her life, perhaps,
she was glad to get into the boat.

* * * * *

When her guests had left, the Marchesa rang the bell for the rosary,
which they had not been