At all events, she said in her heart, she would not
think of such things again. It was probably a sin, and she would
remember to speak of it, at her next confession. Don Teodoro would tell
her what he thought. For in lonely Muro, she had no other confessor, nor
desired any. Her faults, great and small, were such as she would have
acknowledged and discussed with the good man, in her own drawing-room as
willingly as in church--as, indeed, she often did. But not wishing to be
alone with herself any longer on that day, she came down from the tower
and went to her room, where she spent an hour with Elettra in examining
the state of her very much reduced wardrobe.
"Your Excellency is in rags," observed the woman. "You cannot appear in
Naples as a bride with any of the things you have. In the first place,
you have scarcely anything that is not black or white. But also, though
some of these clothes had a cheerful youth, their old age is very sad."
Veronica laughed at Elettra's way of expressing herself, and they went
over all the wardrobe together that afternoon.
As Taquisara saw how those around him seemed to have recovered from the
terrible emotions through which they had passed, and how the life in the
castle quickly subsided again to its monotonous level and ran on in its
old channel, the temptation to solve all difficulties by letting matters
alone presented itself to him with considerable force. Ten days had gone
by, and he had not once found himself alone with Don Teodoro.
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