The thought of Maria
Ferres occupied him exclusively. Arrived in front of the theatre, he
hesitated a moment, undecided which side of the street he had better
take. He would find out the direction of the house by seeing which way
the numbers ran.
'What is the matter?' asked Musellaro.
'Nothing--go on,--I am listening.'
He looked at one number and calculated that the house must be on the
left hand side, somewhere about the Villa Aldobrandini. The tall pines
round the villa looked feathery light against the starry sky. The night
was icy but serene; the Torre delle Milizie lifted up its massive bulk,
square and sombre among the twinkling stars; the laurels on the wall of
Servius slumbered motionless in the gleam of the street lamps.
A few numbers more and they would reach the one mentioned on Don
Manuel's card. Andrea trembled as if he expected Donna Maria to appear
upon the threshold. He passed so close to the great door that he brushed
against it; he could not refrain from looking up at the windows.
'What are you looking at?' asked Musellaro.
'Nothing--give me a cigarette and let us walk a little faster; it is
awfully cold.'
They followed the Via Nazionale as far as the Four Fountains in silence.
Andrea's preoccupation was patent.
'You must decidedly have something serious on your mind,' said his
friend.
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