From time to time, they looked at each other. His self-possession and
courage had returned, now that something decisive was to take place,
but Sabina's heart was almost standing still. She felt that the woman
had come to make a scene, to threaten a scandal and utterly to destroy
the illusion of happiness. If not, and if she had merely had something
of importance to communicate, why had she not gone to Malipieri first,
or written to ask for this interview with Sabina? She had come
suddenly, in order to take advantage of the surprise her appearance
must cause. For once, Sabina wished that her mother were with her, her
high and mighty, insolent, terrible mother, who was afraid of nobody
in the world.
The door opened, and the footman admitted a quiet little woman, about
thirty years old, already inclined to be stout. She was very simply
but very well dressed, she had beautiful brown hair, and when she came
forward Sabina looked into a pair of luminous and trustful hazel eyes.
"Donna Sabina Conti?" asked the Signora Malipieri in a gentle voice.
"Yes," Sabina answered.
She and Malipieri had both risen. The Signora made a timid movement
with her hand, as if she expected that Sabina would offer hers, which
Sabina did, rather late, when she saw that it was expected. The lady
glanced at Malipieri and then at Sabina with a look of enquiry, as he
held out his hand to her and she took it.
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