Weisspriess had no other interview with Anna for several days.  She shunned him openly.  Her carriage moved off when he advanced to meet her at the parade, or review of arms; and she did not scruple to speak in public with Major Nagen, in the manner of those who have begun to speak together in private.  The offender received his punishment gracefully, as men will who have been taught that it flatters them.  He refused every challenge.  From Carlo Ammiani there came not a word.

It would have been a deadly lull to any fiery temperament engaged in plotting to destroy a victim, but Anna had the patience of hatred—­that absolute malignity which can measure its exultation rather by the gathering of its power to harm than by striking.  She could lay it aside, or sink it to the bottom of her emotions, at will, when circumstances appeared against it.  And she could do this without fretful regrets, without looking to the future.  The spirit of her hatred extracted its own nourishment from things, like an organized creature.  When foiled she became passive, and she enjoyed—­forced herself compliantly to enjoy—­her redoubled energy of hatred voluptuously, if ever a turn in events made wreck of her scheming.  She hated Vittoria for many reasons, all of them vague within her bosom because the source of them was indefinite and lay in the fact of her having come into collision with an opposing nature, whose rivalry was no visible rivalry, whose triumph was an ignorance of scorn—­a woman who attracted all men, who scattered injuries with insolent artlessness, who never appealed to forgiveness, and was a low-born woman daring to be proud.  By repute Anna was implacable, but she had, and knew she had, the capacity for magnanimity of a certain kind; and her knowledge of the existence of this unsuspected fund within her justified in some degree her reckless efforts to pull her enemy down on her knees.  It seemed doubly right that she should force Vittoria to penitence, as being good for the woman, and an end that exonerated her own private sins committed to effect it.

Yet she did not look clearly forward to the day of Vittoria’s imploring for mercy.  She had too many vexations to endure:  she was an insufficient schemer, and was too frequently thwarted to enjoy that ulterior prospect.  Her only servile instruments were Major Nagen, and Irma, who came to her from the Villa Ricciardi, hot to do her rival any deadly injury; but though willing to attempt much, these were apparently able to perform little more than the menial work of vengeance.  Major Nagen wrote in the name of Weisspriess to Count Ammiani, appointing a second meeting at Como, and stating that he would be at the villa of the Duchess of Graatli there.  Weisspriess was unsuspectingly taken down to the place by Anna and Lena.  There was a gathering of such guests as the duchess alone among her countrywomen could assemble, under the patronage of the conciliatory Government, and the duchess projected to give a series of brilliant entertainments in the saloons of the Union, as she named her house-roof.  Count Serabiglione arrived, as did numerous Moderates and priest-party men, Milanese garrison officers and others.  Laura Piaveni travelled with Countess d’Isorella and the happy Adela Sedley, from Lago Maggiore.