It was unlike him, yes; but just
at his age boys often did foolish things.

"Marcello is not foolish!" objected the Signora indignantly.

She could by no means listen to reason, and was angry because her friend
tried to argue with her. She rose with an energy she seldom displayed,
and began to walk up and down the verandah. Her face was very pale, her
lip quivered when she spoke, and there was an unnatural light in her
eyes. There was room for much moderate affection in her gentle nature;
she had loved her first husband; she loved Corbario dearly; but the
passion of her life was her son, and at the first presentiment of real
danger to him the dominant preoccupation of her heart took violent
possession of everything else in her, regardless of reason, friendship,
consideration for others, or common sense.

Maddalena walked up and down beside her, putting one arm affectionately
round her waist, and doing the best she could to allay the tempest.

It subsided suddenly, and was followed by a stony silence that
frightened the Contessa. It was time for luncheon, and Aurora came back,
hoping to find that she had been forgiven during her absence, but the
Signora only looked at her coldly once or twice and would not speak.
None of the three even pretended to have an appetite.

"I shall not go back to Rome to-day," said the Contessa. "I cannot
leave you in such anxiety."

"Folco will take care of me," answered the Signora in a dull tone. "Do
not change your plans on my account. The carriage is ordered at three
o'clock."

She spoke so coldly that Maddalena felt a little pardonable resentment,
though she knew that her friend was not at all herself.

"Very well," she answered quietly. "If you had rather that I should not
stay with you we will go back this afternoon."

"It will be much better."

When the carriage appeared neither Folco nor any of the men had
returned. The Signora made an evident attempt to show a little of her
habitual cordiality at parting, and she even kissed Aurora coldly on the
forehead, and embraced Maddalena with something like her usual
affection. The two looked back as they drove away, calling out a last
good-bye, but they saw that the Signora was not even looking after them;
she was leaning against one of the wooden supports of the verandah,
gazing towards the trees, and pressing one hand to her forehead.

"Do you think it was my fault, mamma?" asked Aurora, when they were out
of sight of the cot