Poor Madame Mayer was in great anxiety of mind.

She had not a great amount of pride, but she made up for it by a plentiful endowment of vanity, in which she suffered acutely.

She was a good-natured woman enough, and by nature she was not vindictive; but she could not help being jealous, for she was in love.

She felt how Giovanni every day evidently cared less and less for her society, and how, on the other hand, Del Ferice was quietly assuring his position, so that people already began to whisper that he had a chance of becoming her husband.
She did not dislike Del Ferice; he was a convenient man of the world, whom she always found ready to help her when she needed help.

But by dint of making use of him, she was beginning to feel in some way bound to consider him as an element in her life, and she did not like the position.