After sending up to ask if he would be received, Malipieri entered the
room with an apology. He said that he had hoped to find the Baron in,
and had been told that he might come at any moment. The Baroness
thereupon asked the visitor to stay to luncheon, and Malipieri
accepted, and sat down.

It had always amused Sabina to watch how the Baroness's manner changed
when any one appeared whom she did not know very well. Her mouth
assumed a stereotyped smile, she held her head a little forward and on
one side, and she spoke in quite another tone. But just now Sabina did
not notice these things. She was renewing her impression of Malipieri,
whom she had only seen once and in evening dress. She liked him even
better now, she thought, and it would have pleased her to look at him
longer.

Their eyes met in a glance as he told the Baroness that he had come to
see Volterra on a matter of business. He did not explain what the
business was, and at once began to talk of other things, as if to
escape possible questions. Sabina thought he was paler than before, or
less sunburnt, perhaps; at all events, the contrast between his very
white forehead and his bronzed face was less strong. She could see his
eyes more distinctly, too, than she had seen them in the evening, and
she liked their expression better, for he did not look at all bored
now. She liked his voice, too, for the slight harshness that seemed
always ready to command. She liked the man altogether, and was
conscious of the fact, and wished she could talk with him again, as
she had talked that evening on the sofa in the corner, without fear of
interruption.