“No, no,” said Amalia; “the misunderstanding is explained, and Major Weisspriess is just as ready as Count Ammiani to listen to reason.  Besides, Count Ammiani is not so unfriendly but that if he came so near he would come up to me, surely.”

Laura brought Amalia’s observation to bear upon Anna and Violetta by turning pointedly from one to the other as she said:  “As for reason, perhaps you have chosen the word.  If Count Ammiani attended an appointment this time, he would be unreasonable.”

A startled “Why?”—­leaped from Anna’s lips.  She reddened at her impulsive clumsiness.

Laura raised her shoulders slightly:  “Do you not know?” The expression of her face reproved Violetta, as for remissness in transmitting secret intelligence.  “You can answer why, countess,” she addressed the latter, eager to exercise her native love of conflict with this doubtfully-faithful countrywoman;—­the Austrian could feel that she had beaten her on the essential point, and afford to give her any number of dialectical victories.

“I really cannot answer why,” Violetta said; “unless Count Ammiani is, as I venture to hope, better employed.”

“But the answer is charming and perfect,” said Laura.

“Enigmatical answers are declared to be so when they come from us women,” the duchess remarked; “but then, I fancy, women must not be the hearers, or they will confess that they are just as much bewildered and irritated as I am.  Do speak out, my dearest.  How is he better employed?”

Laura passed her eyes around the group of ladies.  “If any hero of yours had won the woman he loves, he would be right in thinking it folly to be bound by the invitation to fight, or feast, or what you will, within a space of three months or so; do you not agree with me?”

The different emotions on many visages made the scene curious.

“Count Ammiani has married her!” exclaimed the duchess.

“My old friend Carlo is really married!” said Lena.

Anna stared at Violetta.

The duchess, recovering from her wonder, confirmed the news by saying that she now knew why M. Powys had left Milan in haste, three or four days previously, as she was aware that the bride had always wished him to be present at the ceremony of her marriage.

“Signora, may I ask you, were you present?” Violetta addressed Laura.

“I will answer most honestly that I was not,” said Laura.

“The marriage was a secret one; perhaps?”

“Even for friends, you see.”

“Necessarily, no doubt,” Lena said, with an idea of easing her sister’s stupefaction by a sarcasm foreign to her sentiments.

Adela Sedley, later in exactly comprehending what had been spoken, glanced about for some one who would not be unsympathetic to her exclamation, and suddenly beheld her brother entering the room with Weisspriess.  “Wilfrid!  Wilfrid! do you know she is married?”