The young girl's sorrow was genuine, in
strange contrast to Flavia's voluble flippancy. She laid her hand
affectionately on the thick chestnut hair.
"Perhaps he sees now that you should not marry against your
heart."
"Oh, do you think so? I wish it were possible. I should not feel
as though I were so bad if I thought he understood now. I could
bear it better. I should not feel as though it were almost a duty
to marry Frangipani."
Corona turned quickly with an expression that was almost fierce in
its intensity. She took Faustina's hands in hers.
"Never do that, Faustina. Whatever comes to you, do not do that!
You do not know what it is to live with a man you do not love,
even if you do not hate him. It is worse than death."
Corona kissed her and left her standing by the door. Was it
possible, Faustina asked, that Corona did not love her husband? Or
was she speaking of her former life with old Astrardente? Of
course, it must be that. Giovanni and Corona were a proverbially
happy couple.
When Corona again entered her own room, there was a note lying
upon the table, the one her husband had written that morning from
his place of confinement. She tore the envelope open with an
anxiety of which she had not believed herself capable.
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