The Marchesa d'Ateleta was in the habit of spending the summer and part
of the autumn at Schifanoja; for, though a thorough woman of the world,
she was fond of the country and its freedom, and liked to keep open
house there for her friends. She had lavished every care and attention
upon Andrea during his illness; had been to him like an elder sister,
almost a mother, and untiring in her devotion. She cherished a profound
affection for her cousin, was ever ready to excuse or pardon, was a good
and frank friend to him, capable of understanding many things, always at
his beck and call, always cheerful, always bright and witty. Although
she had overstepped the thirties by a year, she had lost nothing of her
youth, vivacity and great personal charm, for she possessed the secret
of Madame de Pompadour's fascination, that '_beaute sans traits_' which
lights up with unexpected graces. Moreover, she possessed that rare gift
commonly called tact. A fine feminine sense of the fitness of things was
an infallible guide to her. In her relations with a host of
acquaintances of either sex she always succeeded in steering her course
discreetly; she never committed an error of taste, never weighed heavily
on the lives of others, never arrived at an inopportune moment nor
became importunate, no deed or word of hers but was entirely to the
point.
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