In a measure, it was a slight upon her dignity, she thought,
that Veronica should let her be served by waitresses. On the other hand,
she reflected upon the conversation which had taken place at tea, and
was forced to admit that she had then discovered the only theory on
which she could accept Veronica's anomalous position, and
conscientiously remain in the house. Either she must look upon the
castle of Muro and its inhabitants as a sort of semi-religious community
of women, or else, in her duty to the world, and the station to which
she had always belonged, she must raise her voice in protests, loud and
many. For many reasons, she did not wish to insist too much, and she did
her best to seem indifferent, keeping her arguments before her mind
while she ate. The chief of them was, indeed, that she clung desperately
to the hope of a marriage; but in her heart there was something else,
and she knew that she was afraid of Veronica. It seemed ridiculous, but
it was true. And her husband was even more afraid of the dominating
young princess than she. They never acknowledged the fact to each other,
when they exchanged moralities, and discussed Veronica, but each was
afraid, and suspected the other of similar cowardice.
The Duchessa did her best to seem indifferent; but now and then, when
one of the women changed her plate, or poured something into her glass,
she could not help slowly looking round, with an air of bewilderment, as
though expecting to see a man in livery at her elbow.
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