"Thank you very much indeed for your kindly interest, Signora. There are many things I should like to consult you about, as I am a stranger here. Will you help me with my little trousseau?"
A trousseau is a subject near and dear to the feminine heart the world over, and the two were still immersed in the fascinating discussion when the tinkle of the door-bell announced Egidio's arrival. Virginia rose as he entered the room and turning to Ragna, kissed her on both cheeks.
"I wish _you_ all happiness, my dear," she said pointedly, "I really must run away now, the babies will be calling for me. I shall come for you in the morning and we will go shopping."
She gave her finger-tips to Egidio and their eyes met, each divining in the other a veiled hostility. In her glance he read an undisguised query and he met it with a sort of insolent defiance.
"Congratulations," she said, in her clear, low voice. "You have gained a good wife--take care of her or I shall hold you to account."
He bowed, "_Servo suo_, Signora Virginia," and opened the door for her.
He returned to Ragna, a slight frown on his face, but waited with characteristic caution until the outer door slammed to, before he said,
"The Signora Virginia does not like me, cara; you must not let her poison your mind against me."
Ragna flushed guiltily, but loyally took up the cudgels in her friend's defence.
"You are unjust, Egidio, she only wants me to be happy, and she is most kind in helping me. You must not speak of her like that!"
"Oh, she does not like me, I have always known it. She dislikes me because I am her husband's friend. All women are jealous at heart of their husbands' friends, male or female."
Ragna laughed at the absurdity of the idea and said playfully,
"Then I think you dislike her because she is my friend!"
"Perhaps that is it," agreed Valentini. "I am jealous of all who are near you, dear one, when I am away."
He smiled to himself and registered a mental vow that Ragna should see but little of Virginia in future. "She knows or guesses too much, and she has a sharp tongue," he thought.
Carolina, the Venetian maid, was the only one who openly expressed disapproval. She flounced about the kitchen, banging the pots and pans, in a state of continual ill-humour.