Arrived at the end of the gallery, she joined a group of ladies who were
talking and fanning themselves excitedly under the fresco of Perseus
turning Phineus to stone. They were the Princess di Ferentino, Hortensa
Massa d'Alba, the Marchesa Daddi-Tosinghi and Bianca Dolcebuono.
'Why so late?' asked the latter.
'I hesitated very much whether to come at all--I don't feel well.'
'Yes, you look very pale.'
'I believe I am going to have neuralgia badly again, like last year.'
'Heaven forefend!'
'Elena, do look at Madame de la Boissiere,' exclaimed Giovanella Daddi
in her queer husky voice; 'doesn't she look like a camel with a yellow
wig!'
'Mademoiselle Vanloo is losing her head over your cousin,' said Hortensa
Massa d'Alba to the Princess as Sophie Vanloo passed on Ludovico
Barbarisi's arm. 'I heard her say just now when they passed me in the
mazurka--_Ludovic, ne faites plus ca en dansant; je frissonne toute_--'
The ladies laughed in chorus, fluttering their fans. The first notes of
a Hungarian waltz floated in from the next room. The gentlemen came to
claim their partners. At last Andrea was able to offer Elena his arm and
carry her off.
'I thought I should have died waiting for you! If you had not come I
should have gone to find you--anywhere. When I saw you come in I could
scarcely repress a cry.
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