It was late in the November afternoon when Marcello ascended the stairs
and stopped before the door of the little apartment. He realised that he
had no key to it, and that he must ring the bell as if he were a mere
visitor. It was strange that such a little thing should affect him at
all, but he was conscious of a sort of chill, as he pulled the metal
handle and heard the tinkling of one of those cheap little bells that
feebly imitate their electric betters by means of a rachet and a small
weighted wheel. It was all so different from the little house in
Trastevere with its bright varnished doors, its patent locks, its smart
windows, and its lovely old garden. He wished he had not brought Regina
to Via Sicilia, though Kalmon's advice had seemed so good. To Kalmon,
who was used to no great luxury in his own life, the place doubtless
seemed very well suited for a young person like Regina, who had been
brought up a poor child in the hills. But the mere anticipation of the
dark and narrow entry, and the sordid little sitting-room beyond, awoke
in Marcello a sense of shame, whether for himself or for the woman who
loved him he hardly knew.
Old Teresa had gone out for something, and Regina opened the door
herself.
CHAPTER XX
"I have come to see if you need anything," Marcello said, when they were
in the sitting-room. "I am sorry to have been obliged to bring you to
such a wretched place, but it seemed a good thing that you should be so
near Kalmon.
Pages:
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327