“I am glad to see that you are recovered,” she said.

“It was nothing,” answered Giovanni, with a glance at his right arm, which was still confined in a bandage of black silk, but was no longer in a sling.

“It was very wrong of you,” returned Corona, looking seriously into his eyes.  “I do not know why you fought, but it was wrong; it is a great sin.”

Giovanni smiled a little.

“We all have to sin sometimes,” he said.  “Would you have me stand quietly and see an abominable piece of baseness, and not lift a hand to punish the offender?”

“People who do base things always come to a bad end,” answered the Duchessa.

“Perhaps.  But we poor sinners are impatient to see justice done at once.  I am sorry to have done anything you consider wrong,” he added, with a shade of bitterness.  “Will you permit me to change the subject?  Are you thinking of remaining in Rome, or do you mean to go away?”

“I am going up to Astrardente to-morrow,” answered Corona, readily.  “I want to be alone and in the country.”

Giovanni showed no surprise:  his anonymous information had been accurate; Del Ferice had not parted with the grey trousers in vain.

“I suppose you are right,” he said.  “But at this time of year I should think the mountains would be very cold.”

“The castle is comfortable.  It has been recently fitted up, and there are many warm rooms in it.  I am fond of the old place, and I need to be alone for a long time.”

Giovanni thought the conversation was becoming oppressive.  He thought of what had passed between them at their last meeting in the conservatory of the Palazzo Frangipani.

“I shall myself pass the summer in Saracinesca,” he said, suddenly.  “You know it is not very far.  May I hope that I may sometimes be permitted to see you?”

Corona had certainly had no thought of seeing Giovanni when she had determined to go to Astrardente; she had not been there often, and had not realised that it was within reach of the Saracinesca estate.  She started slightly.

“Is it so near?” she asked.

“Half a day’s ride over the hills,” replied Giovanni.

“I did not know.  Of course, if you come, you will not be denied hospitality.”

“But you would rather not see me?” asked Saracinesca, in a tone of disappointment.  He had hoped for something more encouraging.  Corona answered courageously.

“I would rather not see you.  Do not think me unkind,” she added, her voice softening a little.  “Why need there be any explanations?  Do not try to see me.  I wish you well; I wish you more—­all happiness—­but do not try to see me.”

Giovanni’s face grew grave and pale.  He was disappointed, even humiliated; but something told him that it was not coldness which prompted her request.

“Your commands are my laws,” he answered.

“I would rather that instead of regarding what I ask you as a command, you should feel that it ought to be the natural prompting of your own heart,” replied Corona, somewhat coldly.