Knowing her temperament, Giovanni had judged it wiser not to let young Signora Mayda know what was going on.
He had found Maironi very weak, not feverish, however, so he felt sure the drive from the Aventine to Via della Polveriera had not harmed him.
Besides, that kind gardener, his eyes full of tears, had wrapped him up warmly in a heavy blanket.

Perhaps Jeanne was mistaken, but it seemed to her that although Noemi displayed much interest in speaking of Piero, much consideration for Jeanne's feelings, she spoke to her in a tone differing from her former tone; as a friend who has not changed her language, but whose heart has become estranged.

Had she perhaps wished Piero to go to Casa Selva?
Probably.
Ever since that Wednesday morning she had been constantly rushing about.
At Palazza Madama they smiled at a certain much respected colleague with white hair and a red face, who received daily visits in the _sala dei telegrammi_ from a lady, both handsome and fashionable.

From the Senate Jeanne would rush to the Grand Hotel to give Carlino his medicine; from the Grand Hotel she would hasten to Via Arenula to give or receive news, or to Via Tre Pile to see the Senator's doctor, who was attending Piero.
Errands in the daytime, and tears at night! Tears of anguish for him who was being wasted by a hidden incurable disease, and again consumed by fever after four-and-twenty hours of perfect freedom from it.

Other tears also, other bitter tears for the accusations which had been spread among Piero's friends and disciples, and which not all of them had rejected.