“I suppose so,” assented the Duchessa, with forced calm.  Her husband opened the door, and Giovanni Saracinesca entered, hat in hand.

“Sit down,” said Astrardente, rather harshly.

“I trust I am not disturbing you,” replied Giovanni, still standing.  He was somewhat surprised at the old man’s inhospitable tone.

“Oh no; not in the least,” said the latter, quickly regaining his composure.  “Pray sit down; the act will begin in a moment.”

Giovanni established himself upon the chair immediately behind the Duchessa.  He had come to talk, and he anticipated that during the second act he would have an excellent opportunity.

“I hear you enjoyed yourselves yesterday,” said Corona, turning her head so as to speak more easily.

“Indeed!” Giovanni answered, and a shade of annoyance crossed his face.  “And who was your informant, Duchessa?”

“Donna Tullia.  I met her this morning.  She said you amused them all—­kept them laughing the whole day.”

“What an extraordinary statement!” exclaimed Giovanni.  “It shows how one may unconsciously furnish matter for mirth.  I do not recollect having talked much to any one.  It was a noisy party enough, however.”

“Perhaps Donna Tullia spoke ironically,” suggested Corona.  “Do you like ’Norma’?”

“Oh yes; one opera is as good as another.  There goes the curtain.”

The act began, and for some minutes no one in the box spoke.  Presently there was a burst of orchestral music.  Giovanni leaned forward so that his face was close behind Corona.  He could speak without being heard by Astrardente.

“Did you receive my letter?” he asked.  Corona made an almost imperceptible inclination of her head, but did not speak.

“Do you understand my position?” he asked again.  He could not see her face, and for some seconds she made no sign; at last she moved her head again, but this time to express a negative.

“It is simple enough, it seems to me,” said Giovanni, bending his brows.

Corona found that by turning a little she could still look at the stage, and at the same time speak to the man behind her.

“How can I judge?” she said.  “You have not told me all.  Why do you ask me to judge whether you are right?”

“I could not do it if you thought me wrong,” he answered shortly.

The Duchessa suddenly thought of that other woman for whom the man who asked her advice was willing to sacrifice his life.

“You attach an astonishing degree of importance to my opinion,” she said very coldly, and turned her head from him.

“There is no one so well able to give an opinion,” said Giovanni, insisting.

Corona was offended.  She interpreted the speech to mean that since she had sacrificed her life to the old man on the opposite side of the box, she was able to judge whether Giovanni would do wisely in making a marriage of convenience, for the sake of an end which even to her mind seemed visionary.  She turned quickly upon him, and there was an angry gleam in her eyes.