It was not a mere manifestation of admiration;
the Diva was used enough to that in all its forms, and could read
every tone of its language. It was more like wonder and curiosity,--
at all events, it was not indifference. She had seen with half an
eye, and without the slightest appearance of seeing it, that the
Marchese could not keep his eyes away from her. During the drive to
the city, and afterwards at the Palazzo Castelmare, while she was
making the acquaintance of the principal people of the city, it had
been the same thing. And nothing could be further than was the
Marchese's manner, from the bold, unabashed staring, which such
beautiful Divas as Bianca have often to endure. He evidently was
devouring her with his eyes on the sly. Evidently he did not wish to
be observed looking at her as he did look. Whenever her own eyes
caught him in the fact, his were on the instant withdrawn: to
return, as Bianca well marked, on the next instant.
Then, after those first words, which he had addressed to her at
their meeting in the road, she had noted that he did not speak to
her, as she sat by his side in the carriage, with the simple ease
and freedom of indifference. There was almost something approaching
to a manifestation of emotion in his manner of addressing her. It
could not be that this elderly gentleman,--this very mature
Marchese, had fallen in love with her already.
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