When she was gone her aunt did not resume her seat, but walked slowly up and down, and twice, as she reached the door that led to the wards, she stood still for a second and smiled.

It was all very well to be as strong as Angela, she reflected, and to have a great religious order behind one, supported by the whole body of the Roman Catholic and Apostolic Church; and it was a fine thing to have so much character, and such a beautiful, grave face, and solemn, saintly eyes; but it showed weakness to turn as white as a sheet at the mention of a man's name, though he might be dead, and in a few minutes it would be a satisfaction to note the signs of inward distress when the grave supervising nurse came face to face with the brother of the man she had loved.
That was what the Princess was thinking of when she heard the distant gate-bell tinkling, and stopped once more in her walk, preparing herself to receive Ugo Severi with an expression of cordiality and affectionate concern.
The portress opened the door into the hall and a confused sound of voices came from the passage.

The Princess started slightly and then smiled, reflecting that she had never noticed the resemblance between Ugo's tone and poor Giovanni's.
Doctor Pieri entered first, tall, grave, fair-bearded, and he was looking back to be sure that the orderlies were careful.

They followed him closely, bringing Captain Ugo in a chair in which he sat upright with his injured foot lying on a raised rest before him and a rug from the motor car over his knees.

He wore a covert coat and a grey felt hat.
The Princess went forward with a bright smile, looking into his face.
'I have seen the head nurse,' she said, 'and you are to have the best room in the hospital, and all sorts of extra care.' Ugo said something as the orderlies set down the chair, but almost at the same moment the Princess heard another voice.