"Why do you ask?"
She could not help putting the question which rose to her lips the
second time, but there was no coldness in her voice. She was very
lonely, and she felt that Malipieri was speaking from some honourable
motive.
"I am living in the palace," Malipieri answered.
Sabina looked up quickly, with an expression of interest in her pale
young face. The thought that the man beside her was living in her old
home was like a bond of acquaintance.
"Really?" she cried. "In which part of the house?"
"Do not seem interested, please," said Malipieri, suddenly looking
very bored again. "If you do, we shall not be allowed to talk. I am
living in the little apartment on the intermediate story. They tell me
that a chaplain once lived there."
"I know where it is," answered Sabina, "but I was never in the rooms.
They used to be shut up, I think."
The deputy who was haranguing on the subject of divorce seemed to be
approaching his peroration. His great voice filled the large room with
incessant noise, and everybody seemed anxiously waiting for a chance
to contradict him. Malipieri was in no danger of being overheard.
"If it happens," he said, "that I wish to communicate with you on a
matter of importance, how can I reach you best?"
He asked the question quite naturally, as if he had known Sabina all
his life.
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