But her
calmness belied the hasty conclusion he drew from her words. He
thought she looked like a statue, as she lay there in her
magnificent rest, her hands folded upon her knees before her, her
eyes so turned that he could see only the drooping lids.
"A personal affair!" he exclaimed suddenly, in a bitter tone. "It
was different once, Corona."
For the first time since they had been talking her face betrayed
some emotion. There was the slightest possible quiver of the lip
as she answered.
"Your titles were never anything but a personal affair."
"What concerns me concerns you, dear," said Giovanni, tenderly.
"In so much that I am very sorry--sincerely sorry, when anything
troubles you." Her voice was kind and gentle, but there was no
love in the words. "Believe me, Giovanni, I would give all I
possess to spare you this."
"All you possess--is there not a little love left in your all?"
The cry came from his heart. He took her hand in both of his, and
leaned forward towards her. Her fingers lay passively in his
grasp, and the colour did not change in her dark cheeks. A moment
ago there had been in her heart a passionate longing for the past,
which had almost betrayed itself, but when he spoke of present
love his words had no power to rouse a responsive echo.
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