"And I," he
reflected, "though I am young, am at all events a man, and
know what is right."
He found her still in the living-room, combing her hair,
for she had something of the slattern in her nature, and
there was no need to keep up appearances.
"You must not go out alone," he said gently. "It is not
safe. If you want to walk, Perfetta shall accompany you."
Perfetta was a widowed cousin, too humble for social
aspirations, who was living with them as factotum.
"Very well," smiled Lilia, "very well"--as if she were
addressing a solicitous kitten. But for all that she never
took a solitary walk again, with one exception, till the day
of her death.
Days passed, and no one called except poor relatives.
She began to feel dull. Didn't he know the Sindaco or the
bank manager? Even the landlady of the Stella d'Italia
would be better than no one. She, when she went into the
town, was pleasantly received; but people naturally found a
difficulty in getting on with a lady who could not learn
their language. And the tea-party, under Gino's adroit
management, receded ever and ever before her.
He had a good deal of anxiety over her welfare, for she
did not settle down in the house at all. But he was
comforted by a welcome and unexpected visitor. As he was
going one afternoon for the letters--they were delivered at
the door, but it took longer to get them at the office--some
one humorously threw a cloak over his head, and when he
disengaged himself he saw his very dear friend Spiridione
Tesi of the custom-house at Chiasso, whom he had not met for
two years.
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