other and the husband of her best friend
face to face, with traces in their eyes, in their gestures, upon their
countenances, of an angry scene! The thought "Why were they thus!
What had they said?" again occurred to her to sadden her. Suddenly she
crushed in her hand with violence the anonymous letter, which gave a
concrete form to her sorrow and her suspicion, and, lighting a taper,
she held it to the paper, which the flames soon reduced to ashes. She
ran her fingers through the debris until there was very little left, and
then, opening the window, she cast it to the winds.

She looked at her glove after doing this--her glove, a few moments
before, of so delicate a gray, now stained by the smoky dust. It was
symbolical of the stain which the letter, even when destroyed, had left
upon her mind. The gloves, too, inspired her with horror. She hastily
drew them off, and, when she descended to rejoin Madame Steno, it was
not any more possible to perceive on those hands, freshly gloved, the
traces of that tragical childishness, than it was possible to discern,
beneath the large veil which she had tied over her hat, the traces of
tears. She found the mother for whom she was suffering so much, wearing,
too, a large sun-hat, but a white one with a white veil, beneath which
could be seen her fair hair, her sparkling blue eyes and pink-and-white
complexion; her form was enveloped in a gown of a material and cut more
youthful than her daughter's, while, radiant with delight, she said to
Peppino Ardea:

"Well, I congratulate you on having made up your mind. The step shall be
taken to-day, and you will be grateful to me all your life!"

"Yet," replied the young man, "I understand myself. I shall regret my
decision all the afternoon. It is true," he added, philosophically,
"that I should regret it just as much if I had not made it."

"You have guessed that we were talking of Fanny's marriage," said Madame
Steno to her daughter several minutes later, when they were seated side
by side, like two sisters, in the victoria which was bearing them toward
Maitland's studio.

"Then," asked the Contessina, "you think it will be arranged?"

"It is arranged," gayly replied Madame Steno. "I am commissioned to make
the proposition.... How happy all three will be!... Hafner has aimed at
it this long time! I remember how, in 1880, after his suit, he came to
see me in Venice--you and Fanny played on the balcony of the palace--he
questioned me