The Princess Montevarchi was made of
braver stuff, however, and if her daughters had not inherited all
her unaffected dignity they had at least received their fair share
of self-possession. When Sant' Ilario entered, these two young
ladies, Donna Flavia and Donna Faustina, were seated one on each
side of their mother. The princess extended her hand, the two
daughters held theirs demurely crossed upon their knees. Faustina
looked at the carpet, as she had been taught to do in the convent.
Flavia looked up boldly at Giovanni, knowing by experience that
her mother could not see her while greeting the visitor. Sant'
Ilario muttered some sort of civil inquiry, bowed to the two young
ladies and sat down.
"How is Monsieur Gouache?" he asked, going straight to the point.
He had seen the look of surprise on the princess's face as he
entered, and thought it best to explain himself at once.
"Ah, you have heard? Poor man! He is badly hurt, I fear. Would you
like to see him?"
"Presently, if I may," answered Giovanni. "We are all fond of
Gouache. How did the accident happen?"
"Faustina ran over him," said Flavia, fixing her dark eyes on
Giovanni and allowing her pretty face to assume an expression of
sympathy--for the sufferer. "Faustina and papa," she added.
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