Mantegazza entered at the soup and was seated on Gheta's right; Cesare
Orsi was on Anna's left; and Lavinia sat between the two men, with
Mochales opposite. Whatever change had taken place in her looks made
absolutely no impression upon the latter; it was clear that he saw no
one besides Gheta Sanviano.
In the candlelight his face more than ever resembled bronze; his hair
was dead-black; above the white linen his head was like a superb effigy
of an earlier and different race from the others. It was almost savage
in its still austerity. Cesare Orsi, too, said little, which was
extraordinary for him. If Lavinia had made small mark on Mochales, at
least she had overpowered the other to a ludicrous degree. It seemed
that he had never before half observed her; he even muttered to himself
and smiled uncertainly when she chanced to gaze at him.
But what the others lacked conversationally Anna Mantegazza more than
supplied; she was at her best, and that was very sparkling, touched
with malice and understanding, and absolute independence. She insisted
on including Lavinia in every issue. At first Lavinia was only confused
by the attention pressed on her; she retreated, growing more
inarticulate at every sally. Then she became easier; spurred partly by
Gheta's direct unpleasantness and partly by the consciousness of her
becoming appearance, she retorted with spirit; engaged Pier Mantegazza
in a duet of verbal confetti. She gazed challengingly at Abrego y
Mochales, but got no other answer than a grave perfunctory inclination.
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