“What trickery?” said Vittoria.

“He was in love with the woman when he was a lad,” Laura replied, and pertinently to Vittoria’s feelings.  This threw the moist shade across her features.

Beppo in Turin and Luigi on the lake were the watch set on Countess d’Isorella; they were useless except to fortify Laura’s suspicions.  The Duchess of Graatli wrote mere gossip from Milan.  She mentioned that Anna of Lenkenstein had visited with her the tomb of her brother Count Paul at Bologna, and had returned in double mourning; and that Madame Sedley—­ “the sister of our poor ruined Pierson”—­had obtained grace, for herself at least, from Anna, by casting herself at Anna’s feet,—­and that they were now friends.

Vittoria felt ashamed of Adela.

When Carlo returned, the signora attacked him boldly with all her weapons; reproached him; said, “Would my husband have treated me in such a manner?” Carlo twisted his moustache and stroked his young beard for patience.  They passed from room to balcony and terrace, and Laura brought him back into company without cessation of her fire of questions and sarcasms, saying, “No, no; we will speak of these things publicly.”  She appealed alternately to Agostino, Vittoria, and Countess Ammiani for support, and as she certainly spoke sense, Carlo was reduced to gloom and silence.  Laura then paused.  “Surely you have punished your bride enough?” she said; and more softly, “Brother of my Giacomo! you are under an evil spell.”

Carlo started up in anger.  Bending to Vittoria, he offered her his hand to lead her out, They went together.

“A good sign,” said the countess.

“A bad sign!” Laura sighed.  “If he had taken me out for explanation!  But tell me, my Agostino, are you the woman’s dupe?”

“I have been,” Agostino admitted frankly.

“You did really put faith in her?”

“She condescends to be so excessively charming.”

“You could not advance a better reason.”

“It is one of our best; perhaps our very best, where your sex is concerned, signora.”

“You are her dupe no more?”

“No more.  Oh, dear no!”

“You understand her now, do you?”

“For the very reason, signora, that I have been her dupe.  That is, I am beginning to understand her.  I am not yet in possession of the key.”

“Not yet in possession!” said Laura contemptuously; “but, never mind.  Now for Carlo.”

“Now for Carlo.  He declares that he never has been deceived by her.”

“He is perilously vain,” sighed the signora.

“Seriously”—­Agostino drew out the length of his beard—­“I do not suppose that he has been—­boys, you know, are so acute.  He fancies he can make her of service, and he shows some skill.”

“The skill of a fish to get into the net!”

“My dearest signora, you do not allow for the times.  I remember”—­ Agostino peered upward through his eyelashes in a way that he had—­ “I remember seeing in a meadow a gossamer running away with a spider-thread.  It was against all calculation.  But, observe:  there were exterior agencies at work:  a stout wind blew.  The ordinary reckoning is based on calms.  Without the operation of disturbing elements, the spider-thread would have gently detained the gossamer.”