Her people were a sort of family to her. That was a remnant of feudalism
in her character, perhaps, which had suddenly developed during the
months she had spent in Muro. But that, too, was natural, as it was
natural that they should love her and almost worship the ground she
trod. For the poorer classes of Italians are sometimes very forgetful of
benefits, but are rarely ungrateful. She had done in a few months, for
their real advantage, so that they felt it, enough to make up for the
oppression of generations of Serra, and almost enough to atone for the
extortions of Gregorio Macomer. She was the last of her name, and her
husband, if he lived, was to be the father of a new stock, which would
be called Serra della Spina, and whose men would hold the lands and take
the rents and do good, or not, according to their hearts, each in his
generation. It seemed to her that the people had a right to see Gianluca
standing on his feet beside her, since her marriage was to mean so much
to them.
Don Teodoro came to her, soon after Taquisara had left him, to tell her
that he must go to Naples without delay. She looked at him in
astonishment at the proposal, and as she looked, she saw that his face
was changed. Oddly enough, he held himself much more erect than usual;
but his features were drawn down as though by much suffering, and his
eyes, usually so clear and steady, wandered nervously about the room.
"You are not well," said Veronica.
Pages:
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492