'I
know nothing any more.'
'Then you have changed very much.'
'Yes--very much indeed.'
They had both dropped their bantering tone. Elena's answer threw a
sudden search-light upon much that was problematical before. Andrea
understood, and with that rapid and precise intuition so often found in
minds practised in psychological analysis, he instantly divined the
moral attitude of his visitor, and foresaw the further development of
the coming scene. Moreover, he was already under the spell of this
woman's fascination as in the former days, besides being greatly piqued
by curiosity.
'Will you not sit down?' he asked.
'Yes--for a moment.'
'Here--in this arm-chair.'
'Ah--_my_ arm-chair!' she was on the point of exclaiming, for she
recognised an old friend, but she stopped herself in time.
The chair was deep and roomy, and covered with antique leather on which
pale dragons ramped in relief, after the style of the wall decorations
of one of the rooms in the Chigi palace. The leather had taken on that
warm and sumptuous tone which recalls the background of certain Venetian
portraits, or a fine bronze still retaining traces of former gilding, or
a piece of tortoise-shell with gleams of gold here and there. A great
cushion covered with a piece of a dalmatic of faded colouring--of that
peculiar shade which the Florentine silk merchants used to call 'rosa di
gruogo,' saffron red, contributed to its inviting easiness.
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