I never saw a man in such a fury of
despair and rage before. He swore that he would have all Italy
searched for the girl, that he would be the death of the priest,
and that he would never enter Luca Lomi's studio again--"
"And, as to this last particular, of course, being a man, he
failed to keep his word?"
"Of course. At that first visit of mine to the studio I
discovered two things. The first, as I said, that Fabio was
really in love with the girl--the second, that Maddalena Lomi was
really in love with him. You may suppose I looked at her
attentively while the disturbance was going on, and while
nobody's notice was directed on me. All women are vain, I know,
but vanity never blinded my eyes. I saw directly that I had but
one superiority over her--my figure. She was my height, but not
well made. She had hair as dark and as glossy as mine; eyes as
bright and as black as mine; and the rest of her face better than
mine. My nose is coarse, my lips are too thick, and my upper lip
overhangs my under too far. She had none of those personal
faults; and, as for capacity, she managed the young fool in his
passion as well as I could have managed him in her place."
"How?"
"She stood silent, with downcast eyes and a distressed look, all
the time he was raving up and down the studio. She must have
hated the girl, and been rejoiced at her disappearance; but she
never showed it.
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