She put out her hand to him, as she spoke the last words, with her eyes dropped to the ground, and with a feeling of genuine shyness, that was quite surprising and puzzling to herself.

“Dear Signora, I will and do believe it with all my heart; and, in truth, I am deeply grateful to you for your good will,” said Ludovico, really touched by the evident and genuine sincerity of her words.

“And now, I must ask you to leave me.  I must dress myself and lose no time about it.  The Marchese will be here in a minute or two.  And I could not, you know, venture to receive him in the unceremonious manner which you have been good enough to excuse.”

She gave him a little sidelong look with half a laugh in her eyes, as she said the latter words; and Ludovico, putting the tips of her fingers to his lips before relinquishing her hand, bowed, and left her without saying anything further.

CHAPTER VI

Paolina at Home

Ludovico had run up in a hurry to Bianca’s lodging, as has been seen, merely because it happened to be in his way, and because he had been desirous, as he told her, of paying her his compliments on the success of the preceding evening.  He was hastening to pay another visit, in which his heart was far more interested, and had not intended to remain with La Lalli above five minutes.  The conversation between them had extended to a greater length; and the Marchesino, eager as he was to get to the dear little room in the Via di Sta.  Eufemia, would have made it still longer, had not the Diva dismissed him.

The talk between them had become far more interesting than any which he had thought likely to pass between him and the famous singer.  This horrible doubt—­no, not a doubt—­he had not, would not, could not doubt; but this germ of a doubt deposited in his mind by the words she had spoken?  Could she have had any second motive for speaking as she had done?  Surely not; surely all her manner and her words showed sufficiently clearly that she was actuated by kindly feelings towards him and by no unkindly feeling towards Paolina.  Yet unquestionably Paolina’s instinctive prejudice against her would not have been diminished by a knowledge of what the Diva had said.  Ludovico thought of the bitter and burning indignation with which his darling would have heard the expression of the possibility of a doubt of the uncalculating purity and earnestness of her love.

Nevertheless he felt that he should have liked to talk further with Bianca on the subject; of course only to convince her of the absolute injustice of her suspicions.  Still she was a woman, a fellow artist; placed in some respects in the same position in relation to the world to which he belonged, as his Paolina—­in some respects similar; but oh, thank God, how different!  Yet women understood each other in a way a man could never hope to understand them.  What immediately struck Bianca, struck her