"
"But what must such a man be?" cried Marcello, suddenly breaking out in
anger. "What must his life have been in all the years before my mother
married him?"
"He was a kind of adventurer in South America. I don't quite know what
he did there, but Professor Kalmon has found out a great deal about him
from the Argentine Republic, where he lived until he killed somebody and
had to escape to Europe. If I were you I would go and see the Professor,
since he is in Rome. He lives at No. 16, Via Sicilia. He will tell you a
great deal about that man when he knows that you have parted for good."
"I'll go and see him. Thank you. I cannot imagine that he could tell me
anything worse than I have already heard."
"Perhaps he may," Aurora answered very gravely.
Then she was silent, and Marcello could not help looking at her as she
leaned back in the corner of the sofa. Of all things, at that moment, he
dreaded lest he should lose command of himself under the unexpected
influence of her beauty, of old memories, of the failing light, of the
tender shadows that still lingered under her eyes, of that exquisite
small hand that lay idly on the sofa beside her, just within his reach.
He rose abruptly, no longer trusting himself.
"I must be going," he said.
"Already? Why?" She looked up at him and their eyes met.
"Because I cannot be alone with you any longer. I do not trust myself."
"Yes, you do.
Pages:
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274