Corona went on her way and found Faustina and Flavia together.  Their mother was not able to see any one.  The rest of the family had gone to the country as soon as the body had been taken away, yielding without any great resistance to the entreaties of their best friends who, according to Roman custom, thought it necessary to “divert” the mourners.  That is the consecrated phrase, and people of other countries may open their eyes in astonishment at the state of domestic relations as revealed by this practice.  It is not an uncommon thing for the majority of the family to go away even before death has actually taken place.  Speaking of a person who is dying, it is not unusual to say, “You may imagine how ill he is, for the family has left him!” The servants attend the Requiem Mass, the empty carriages follow the hearse to the gates of the city, but the family is already in the country, trying to “divert” itself.

Flavia and Faustina, however, had stayed at home, partly because the old princess was really too deeply moved and profoundly shocked to go away, and partly because San Giacinto refused to leave Rome.  Faustina, too, was eccentric enough to think such haste after “diversion” altogether indecent, and she herself had been through such a series of emotions during the twenty-four hours that she found rest needful.  As for Flavia, she took matters very calmly, but would have preferred very much to be with her brothers and their wives.  The calamity had for the time subdued her vivacity, though it was easy to see that it had made no deep impression upon her nature.  If the truth were told, she was more unpleasantly affected by thus suddenly meeting Corona than by her father’s tragic death.  She thought it necessary to be more than usually affectionate, not out of calculation, but rather to get rid of a disagreeable impression.  She sprang forward and kissed Corona on both cheeks.

“I was longing to see you!” she said enthusiastically.  “You have been so kind to Faustina.  I am sure we can never thank you enough.  Imagine, if she had been obliged to spend the night alone in prison!  Such an abominable mistake, too.  I hope that dreadful man will be sent to the galleys.  Poor little Faustina!  How could any one think she could do such a thing!”

Corona was not prepared for Flavia’s manner, and it grated disagreeably on her sensibilities.  But she said nothing, only returning her salutation with becoming cordiality before sitting down between the two sisters.  Faustina looked on coldly, disgusted with such indifference.  It struck her that if Corona had not accompanied her to the Termini, it would have been very hard to induce any of her own family to do so.

“And poor papa!” continued Flavia volubly.  “Is it not too dreadful, too horrible?  To think of any one daring!  I shall never get over the impression it made on me—­never.  Without a priest, without any one—­poor dear!”

“Heaven is very merciful,” said Corona, thinking it necessary to make some such remark.