She would have enjoyed all this hugely if she had not been married to
Orsi; but the continual reiteration of the fact that she was Orsi's
wife filled her with an accumulating resentment. The implication that
she had been exceedingly fortunate became more than she could bear. The
consequence was that, as soon as it could be managed, she ceased going
about.
She was now at the window, immersed in a melancholy sense of total
isolation; the water stirring along the masonry below, a call from a
shadowy fishing boat dropping down the bay, filled her with longing for
the cheerful existence of the Lungarno. She had had a letter from Gheta
that morning, the first from her sister since she had left Florence,
brief but without any actual expression of ill will. After all was
said, she had brought Gheta a great disappointment; if she had been in
the elder's place probably she would have behaved no better.... It
occurred to her to ask Gheta to Naples. At least then she would have
some one with whom to recall the pleasant trifles of past years. She
would have liked to ask Anna Mantegazza, too; but this she knew was
impossible--Gheta had not forgiven Anna for her part on the night that
had resulted in Orsi's proposal for Lavinia.
She wondered, more obscurely, whether Abrego y Mochales was still in
Florence. He loomed at the back of her thoughts, inscrutably dark and
romantic. It piqued her that he had not made the slightest response to
her palpable admiration.
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