It does not matter whether I fear Signor Corbario or not, but if you like I will tell him what I have told you, when he comes.

In that way he will know." She spoke quietly, and there was no murderous light in her eyes, nor any dramatic gesture with the words; but she was a little paler than before, and there was an odd fixedness in her expression, and Marcello knew that she was deeply moved, by the way she fell back into her primitive peasant's speech, not ungrammatical, but oddly rough and forcible compared with the language of educated society which she had now learned tolerably well from him.
After that she was silent for a while, and then they talked as usual, and the day went by as other days had gone.
On the next afternoon Folco Corbario reached Saint Moritz and sent a note up to Marcello asking him to come down on the following morning.
Regina was left alone for a few hours, and she went out with the idea of taking a long walk by herself.

It would be a relief and almost a pleasure to walk ten miles in the clear air, breathing the perfume of the pines and listening to the roar of the torrent.

Marcello could not walk far without being tired, and she never thought of herself when he was with her; but when she was alone a great longing sometimes came over her to feel the weight of a conca full of water on her head, to roll up her sleeves and scrub the floors, to carry burdens and work with her hands all day long, as she had done ever since she was a child, with the certainty of being tired and hungry and sleepy afterwards.

Her hands had grown smooth and white in a year, and her feet were tender, and she had almost forgotten what bodily weariness meant.
But she was alone this morning, and she was full of gloomy presentiments.