"
At the mention of the last word light broke into Maddalena's face.
"You are from Marechiaro. Have you ever seen me before? Do you
remember me?"
Maddalena shook her head.
"And I--I don't remember you. But you are from Marechiaro. You must
be."
Maddalena shook her head again.
"You are not?"
Hermione looked into the long Arab eyes, searching for a lie. She met
a gaze that was steady but dull, almost like that of a sulky child,
and for a moment she felt as if this woman was only a great child,
heavy, ignorant, but solemnly determined, a child that had learned its
lesson and was bent on repeating it word for word.
"Did Gaspare come here early this morning to see you?" she asked, with
sudden vehemence.
Maddalena was obviously startled. Her face flushed.
"Why should he come?" she said, almost angrily.
"That is what I want you to tell me."
Maddalena was silent. She shifted uneasily in her chair, which creaked
under her weight, and twisted her full lips sideways.
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