He passed close to Arisa, and Aristarchi guessed that their eyes met for a moment.

He almost fancied that Contarini's lips moved, and he was sure that he smiled.

But that was all, and Arisa remained on her knees, not even turning her head a little as her lover went by.
"Not so ugly after all," Contarini had said, under his breath, and the careless smile went with the words.
Arisa's lip curled contemptuously as she heard.

She had drawn back her veil, her face was raised, as if she were sending up a prayer to heaven, and the light fell full upon the magnificent whiteness of her throat, that showed in strong relief against the black velvet and lace.

She needed no other answer to what he said, but in the scorn of her curving mouth, which seemed all meant for Marietta, there was contempt for him, too, that would have cut him to the quick of his vanity.
Aristarchi walked deliberately by the pillar to the aisle, as he passed, and listened for the flapping of the heavy leathern curtain at the door.
Then he stole nearer to the place where Arisa was still kneeling, and came noiselessly behind her and leaned against the column, and watched her, not caring if he surprised her now.
But she did not turn round.