Bianca Corleone had another accomplishment which was very unusual at that time, and is still uncommon, among Italian women.  She could fence, and was fond of the exercise.  She had been a delicate child, and it had long been feared that her lungs were weak, so that she had been encouraged from her earliest youth in everything which could contribute towards increasing her strength.  Her brother, Gianforte, had even as a boy been a good fencer.  He was devotedly attached to his only sister, and as she had not gone to the convent school until she had been fifteen years old, they had been constantly together until then, he being only a couple of years older than she.  One day she had taken up one of his foils, laughing at the idea, and had made him show her how to hold it; and he had forthwith amused her by teaching her to fence, on rainy days in Rome, when she could not ride.  It had seemed to do her good, and her father had allowed her to have regular lessons, until she could handle a foil very fairly, for a girl.  She herself liked it, but she rarely alluded to it, regarding it as a rather unfeminine amusement, and being, at the same time, a most womanly woman.

But in her villa she had a large empty room, admirably adapted for fencing, and three times weekly a famous master came and gave her lessons.  To her surprise Veronica had shown an irresistible desire to learn also, and had insisted upon being properly taught by the fencing-master.  The young girl had soon shown that she had far more natural ability and aptitude for the skilled exercise than Bianca had possessed when she had first begun.  Her lean young figure, long arms, and unusual quickness gave her every advantage with a foil, and her extraordinary tenacity and determination to do well at it helped her to progress rapidly.  Before she had practised two months, though by no means yet as good as Bianca, she had been able to sustain a long bout with her very creditably indeed.

Bianca had a very different temperament and organization.  She was never really strong, though exercise had developed her strength to the utmost.  She did many things well, but did nothing with that sort of conviction, so to say, which proceeds from conscious inward vigour.  When she was not actually riding or fencing, or doing something of the sort, there was a languor in her movements and her manner which told that she had no great vital force upon which to draw.  Those who already know something of her story, will remember that her life was short as well as sad.

She watched Veronica with interest, noting how suddenly the girl changed and developed in her new liberty.  She had never suspected her of many tastes and inclinations which now showed themselves for the first time.  She found that a certain simplicity of view and judgment which she had set down to girlish innocence, was, in reality, the natural bent of Veronica’s character.  There was a fearless directness in the girl’s ways, which delighted Bianca Corleone.