Seated, she looked bigger, more graceless, than before. But
Hermione saw that she was not really middle-aged. Hard life and
trouble doubtless had combined to destroy her youth and beauty early,
to coarsen the outlines, to plant the many wrinkles that spread from
the corners of her eyes and lips to her temples and her heavy, dusky
cheeks. She was now a typical woman of the people. Hermione tried to
see her as a girl, long ago--years and years ago.
"I know your son Ruffo very well," she said.
Maddalena's face softened.
"Si, Signora. He has told me of you."
Suddenly she seemed to recollect something.
"I have never-- Signora, thank you for the money," she said.
The harshness was withdrawn from her voice as she spoke now, and in
her abrupt gentleness she looked much younger than before. Hermione
divined in that moment her vanished beauty. It seemed suddenly to be
unveiled by her tenderness.
"I heard you were in trouble."
"Si, Signora--great trouble."
Her eyes filled with tears and her mouth worked.
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