She couldn't bear the idea of living in
his place."
"Let's go straight to Mrs. Winter's and ask her advice," Peter
suggested. "She told me all about the Chateau Lontana last night."
They sat silent as the motor carried them swiftly along the white road.
Peter longed to talk, but all the things she most wished to say were
impossible to put into words. How Marie had checkmated them! It was like
her, Peter thought; but she did not doubt the truth of that thing the
Princess had said. There are some looks, some tones, which cannot lie.
Peter did not see what other course they could have taken, instead of
that which they had chosen quickly, without discussion, accepting the
inevitable. She believed, and she thought Vanno believed, that Marie
would have kept her word and killed herself if they had persisted in
telling Angelo what she was and had done. She had begged them to "wait a
little while," but it was not only a question of waiting. Marie, as
usual, had done well for herself. Vanno could not in cold blood, after
months had passed and Marie was the mother of his brother's child, tell
Angelo the story. At least, Peter was sure he would not bring himself to
do that. Even she, who detested Marie now with an almost tigerish
hatred, could not imagine herself pouring out such a tale when the first
fire of rage had died--no, not even in defence of Mary; for Mary would
be the one of all others to say, "Do not speak." Yet it filled Peter
with fury to think that now no one could fight for Mary--sweet Mary, who
was not by nature one to fight for herself.
Pages:
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558