On
the terrace the Padre himself had shown uneasiness when he heard that
Signora Dessalle had arrived. His desire to avoid her had been evident;
but he was quite master of his feelings. Oh! yes, he was quite master
of his feelings. Maria was of the same opinion, and she told of her
conversation with him at the foot of the stairway. Husband and
wife slowly ascended the stairs, absorbed in contemplation of this
extraordinary drama, of the poor woman's crushing grief, of the terrible
impression the man must have borne away with him, and--now that it
was over--of the night both must pass, wondering what would happen
to-morrow, what he would do, what she would do.
"It is well to pray over such matters, is it not?" said Maria.
"Yes, dear, it is. Let us pray that she may learn to give her love and
her sorrow to God," the husband answered.
Hand in hand they entered their bedroom, which was divided in two by a
heavy curtain. They went to the window and looked up at the sky, praying
silently. A breath of the north wind soughed like a lament through the
oak overhanging the tiny chapel of Santa Maria della Febbre.
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