It
is five o'clock.'
'It wants a minute or two yet to the hour. I was hurrying on to receive
you. Forgive me.'
'But you seem quite upset and very pale. Where were you coming from?'
She frowned slightly, regarding him fixedly through her veil.
'From my stables,' Andrea replied, meeting her look unblushingly as
though he had not a drop of blood left to send to his face. 'A horse
that I thought a great deal of has been hurt in the knee--the fault of
the jockey--and now it will not be able to run in the Derby on Sunday.
It has annoyed and upset me very much. Please forgive me, I over-stayed
the time without noticing it. But it is still a few minutes to five.'
'It does not matter. Good-bye. I am going back.'
They had reached the Piazza del Trinita. She stopped and held out her
hand. A furrow still lingered between her brows. With all her great
sweetness of temper, she occasionally had moments of angry impatience
and petulancy that seemed to transform her into another creature.
'No, Maria--come, be kind! I am going up now to wait for you. Go on as
far as the gates of the Pincio and then come back. Will you?'
The clock of the Trinita de' Monti begun to strike.
'You hear that?' he added.
She hesitated for a moment.
'Very well, I will come.'
'Thank you so much! I love you.'
'And I love you.'
They parted.
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