Perhaps what is a fault in angels may
seem to be almost a virtue in humanity, compared with the meanness of
worse failings.
Sabina was not suspicious, yet she could not help wondering why the
Baroness had been so very anxious to take her in, and sometimes she
thought that the object might be to marry her to one of Volterra's two
sons. One was in a cavalry regiment stationed in Turin, the other was
in the diplomacy and was now in Washington. They were both doing very
well in their careers and their father and mother often talked of
them.
The Baron was inclined to be playful now and then.
"Ah, my dear young lady," he would cry, shaking one fat finger at
Sabina across the dinner table, "take care, take care! You will lose
your heart to both my boys and sow discord in my family!"
At this he never failed to laugh, and his wife responded with a smile
of motherly pride, followed by a discreet side glance at Sabina's
delicate face. Then the finely-pencilled eyebrows were just the least
bit more arched for a second, and the slender neck grew slightly
straighter, but that was all, and the Baron did not even see the
change. Sometimes Sabina said nothing, but sometimes she asked if the
sons were coming home on leave. No, they were not coming at present.
In the spring Volterra and his wife generally spent a few weeks in
Turin, to see the elder son, on their way to Aix and Paris, but his
brother could hardly expect to come home for another year.
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