He showed the letter to Sabina, and it pleased her by its frank
simplicity, and perfect readiness to accept Malipieri's statement
without question, and without the smallest resentment. Somehow the
girl had felt that this shadowy woman, who stood between her and
Malipieri, would make some claim upon him, and assert herself in some
disagreeable way, or criticise his action. It was hateful to think she
really had a right to call herself his wife, and was therefore legally
privileged to tell him unpleasant truths. Sabina always connected that
with matrimony, remembering how her father and mother used to quarrel
when he was alive, and how her brother and sister-in-law continued the
tradition. If the Volterra couple were always peaceful, that was
because the Baroness was in mortal awe of her fat husband, a state of
life to which Sabina did not wish to be called. It was true that
Malipieri's position with regard to his so-called wife had nothing to
do with a real marriage, but Sabina had felt the disapproving presence
of the woman she had never seen, and whom she imagined to be
perpetually shaking a warning finger at Malipieri and reminding him
sourly that he could not call his soul his own. The letter had
destroyed the impression.
Meanwhile Malipieri was appalled by the publicity of a betrothal which
was never to lead to marriage.
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