Sufficient to her were the good things of the day; the rest was in no way her business.
There was Valdarno in the club-box, with a knot of other men of his own stamp.

There were the Rocca, mother and daughter and son--a boy of eighteen--and a couple of men in the back of the box.

Everybody was there, as her husband had said; and as she dropped her glance toward the stalls, she was aware of Giovanni Saracinesca's black eyes looking anxiously up to her.

A faint smile crossed her serene face, and almost involuntarily she nodded to him and then looked away.

Many men were watching her, and bowed as she glanced at them, and she bent her head to each; but there was no smile for any save Giovanni, and when she looked again to where he had been standing with his back to the stage, he was gone from his place.
"They are the same old things," said Astrardente, "but they are still very amusing.