She was verbose; but the lawyer had listened
with the most perfect patience and unflagging attention to every
word she had uttered.
"It is, indeed, clear enough," he said, shaking his head, "that
between two women so situated with reference to each other, there
could have been no very kindly feeling. And it must be confessed
that this unfortunate Bianca Lalli was, by all accounts, just the
sort of woman that was likely to be a very dangerous rival."
"She; a common, impudent, low-lived, brazen-faced, worn-out Jezebel.
No; not where my Paolina stood on the other side. She couldn't take
the Marchese away from her with all her arts. And that's why she
went and put an end to herself. But she's gone--she's gone, where
her painted face and her lures won't be of any more service to her.
And so I won't say any evil of her. Not I. It's a good rule that
tells us to speak well of the dead. Ave, Maria gratia plena, ora pro
nobis, nunc et in hora mortis nostrae," said the old woman, crossing
herself and casting up her eyes in attestation of the Christian
nature of her sentiments.
"Amen!" said the lawyer, piously, while he waited to see if the
exuberance of his visitor's feelings would lead her to throw any
further light on the state of feeling that had existed between
Paolina Foscarelli and the murdered woman.
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