None came, and he continued, 'The Signora Laura is also your friend.' She rejoined coldly, 'I am not thinking of her.' Vittoria had tried to utter what might be a word of comfort for him, and she found she had not a thought or an emotion.

Here she differed from Laura, who, if the mood to heal a favourite's little sore at any season came upon her, would shower out lively tendernesses and all cajoleries possible to the tongue of woman.

Yet the irritation of action narrowed Laura more than it did Vittoria; fevered her and distracted her sympathies.

Being herself a plaything at the time, she could easily play a part for others.

Vittoria had not grown, probably never would grow, to be so plastic off the stage.