up behind him on the saddle, put his arm round him, and the whole party started. The horses moved at a walking pace, and when they turned round before the house, Fabio fancied that in Muzzio's dark face there gleamed two spots of white. . . . Could it be he had turned his eyes upon him? Only the Malay bowed to him . . . ironically, as ever.
Did Valeria see all this? The blinds of her windows were drawn . . . but it may be she was standing behind them.
XIV
At dinner-time she came into the dining-room, and was very quiet and affectionate; she still complained, however, of weariness. But there was no agitation about her now, none of her former constant bewilderment and secret dread; and when, the day after Muzzio's departure, Fabio set to work again on her portrait, he found in her features the pure expression, the momentary eclipse of which had so troubled him . . . and his brush moved lightly and faithfully over the canvas.
The husband and wife took up their old life again. Muzzio vanished for them as though he
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