As he joined Corona, his face betrayed no emotion--he had been so pale before that he could not turn whiter in his anger--but his eyes gleamed fiercely at the thought of fight.

The Duchessa stood where he had left her, still much agitated.
"It is nothing," said Giovanni, with a forced laugh, as he offered her his arm and led her quickly away.

"Imagine.

A great vase with one of Frangipani's favourite plants in it had been badly propped, and had fallen right through the glass, outward." "It is strange," said Corona.

"I was almost sure I heard a groan." "It was the wind.