not like listless
Milan about to criticize an untried voice. The commonly empty boxes
of the aristocracy were full of occupants, and for a wonder the white
uniforms were not in excess, though they were to be seen. The first
person whom Ammiani met was Agostino, who spoke gruffly. Vittoria had
been invisible to him. Neither the maestro, nor the impresario, nor the
waiting-woman had heard of her. Uncertainty was behind the curtain, as
well as in front; but in front it was the uncertainty which is tipped
with expectation, hushing the usual noisy chatter, and setting a
daylight of eyes forward. Ammiani spied about the house, and caught
sight of Laura Piaveni with Colonel Corte by her side. The Lenkensteins
were in the Archduke's box. Antonio-Pericles, and the English lady and
Captain Gambier, were next to them. The appearance of a white uniform in
his mother's box over the stage caused Ammiani to shut up his glass. He
was making his way thither for the purpose of commencing the hostilities
of the night, when Countess Ammiani entered the lobby, and took her
son's arm with a grave face and a trembling touch.

CHAPTER XIX

THE PRIMA DONNA

'Whover is in my box is my guest,' said the countess, adding a
convulsive imperative pressure on Carlo's arm, to aid the meaning of her
deep underbreath. She was a woman who rarely exacted obedience, and she
was spontaneously obeyed. No questions could be put, no explanations
given in the crash, and they threaded on amid numerous greetings in a
place where Milanese society had habitually ceased to gather, and found
itself now in assembly with unconcealed sensations of strangeness. A
card lay on the table of the countess's private retiring-room: it bore
the name of General Pierson. She threw off her black lace scarf.
'Angelo Guidascarpi is in Milan,' she said. 'He has killed one of the
Lenkensteins, sword to sword. He came to me an hour after you left;
the sbirri were on his track; he passed for my son. He is now under the
charge of Barto Rizzo, disguised; probably in this house. His brother
is in the city. Keep the cowl on your head as long as possible; if these
hounds see and identify you, there will be mischief.' She said no more,
satisfied that she was understood, but opening the door of the box,
passed in, and returned a stately acknowledgement of the salutations of
two military officers. Carlo likewise bent his head to them; it was like
bending his knee, for in the younger of