Chapter II · DISTAFFS AND THREADS (continued 2)

The old man paused.

"I beg your pardon, sir," Said Massimo. "Besides what?"

"And, besides, my dear young friend, I am aware of something I do not speak of."

There were steps upon the gravel, coming from the Riderella bridge. The bell above a door announced Leila, who was entering the drawing-room from the open verandah. She came out to the terrace, kissed Signor Marcello good-night, saluted Massimo graciously enough, and withdrew.

It was after ten o'clock, and Giovanni brought Signor Marcello his coffee and the brass lamp. After the billiard-room door had closed upon him, Massimo still lingered on the terrace, contemplating the huge shadows of the mountains, breathing in the cool night air, and thinking how strangely confidential Signor Marcello's communications had been. He had doubtless failed to reflect that they might convey precisely that meaning which was most repugnant to his fatherly heart. At the same time Massimo confessed to himself that something had indeed stirred within him at the sound of Leila's step upon the gravel, and that her friendly good-night had caused him at once displeasure and delight. He had better not dwell upon all this, he thought, as he passed into the drawing-room on his way to bed.

On reaching the fireplace he raised his eyes almost mechanically to the frieze of marguerites and the mysterious perhaps. There was no longer any need to question the marguerites concerning his departure. He was tempted to consult them on another subject now, but he refrained. He stepped back from the fireplace and turned unconsciously to the piano. Awakening to a sense of his movement, he asked himself wonderingly what had prompted it, and stooped to examine the volume of Heller on the music-rack as if he had come there for that especial purpose. But he was possessed by the sense of Leila's presence and personality that breathed from objects, like a perfume perceptible only to the spirit. Upon the chair he saw a pansy that must have fallen from her belt, and he stooped to pick it up, but drew back his hand, and, turning, started upstairs, resisting a strong temptation to go down again. Hearing steps in the drawing-room, Giovanni appeared on the threshold, inquiring if he might put out the lights, and, having received permission, proceeded to do so. At the moment Massimo was glad of this interruption. When he reached his room he told himself that, had he picked up the pansy, he would have placed it beside his dead friend's picture, and he regretted that he had not done so.

Regardless of Teresina's protests, Leila had filled her room for the night with roses, honeysuckle, and acacia. It was a weakness of hers. She had as many flowers as possible brought to her room unknown to Signor Marcello, and she delighted in the strongest scents. That night she had a sea of flowers. She stuck several bunches of acacia between the bedhead and the wall, and a bunch of roses between the wall and a holy picture. She loved to lie in bed and feel the petals falling upon her face. Teresina begged her to leave all three windows open, and to this she agreed. As soon as Teresina had left the room she put out the light, turned upon her side, indulging her consciousness of fragrance as if she were listening to some caressing language, and gazing through the window at the black, crescent-shaped crown of woods, at the sharp dolomitic peaks against the dark sky, and neither thinking nor wishing to think.

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