But, beneath the
skin of office, he was Italian to the core, and he promised himself a
fine scenic effect when the Englishwoman's glance fell on the other
occupant of the room.
But Mrs. Haxton had nerved herself to play for a high stake. Though she
shrank back a little and caught her breath when she saw Alfieri, there
was a restraint in her attitude which might have surprised a more
astute person than Governor Marchetti. Her eyes contracted somewhat,
her lips tightened, a hand clutched at the folds of a cloak thrown
loosely over her shoulders. Marchetti paid heed to these things, and
interpreted them as evidences of timidity. A man accustomed to wield a
rapier rather than a cudgel would not have made that initial error.
Alfieri's presence changed the whole situation, and Mrs. Haxton, in
whom the stage had lost a great actress, instantly bent her wits to
deal with the new set of circumstances thus created.
"You speak Italian, signora? Ah, capital! Pray be seated," said the
Governor affably. "As you have honored me with a call at this unusual
hour I take it that your business is urgent.
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