Veronica had not known in the night. Her rooms were at the farther end of the apartment in a quiet part of the house, and when she had left Bosio she had gone to bed immediately and had dismissed her maid. Elettra came from the room to find the household in the hideous uproar and confusion which first followed the discovery of Bosio's death. Elettra was a wise woman as well as a revengeful one. By the deeds of the Macomer, as she looked at it, her own husband had been killed, and she had cursed their house, living and dead. She had blood now, for her blood, and in the dark corridor she smiled once. But no one should disturb Veronica, and she stood there, where any one must pass to go to the girl's room, silent, satisfied, watchful. She loved her mistress, as she hated all the Macomer, body and soul, alive and dead. Some foolish women of the household would have roused Veronica, for they came, two together, asking in loud hysterical voices, whether she knew. But Elettra kept them off, and took the news herself in the morning when Veronica rang for her.
"A terrible thing has happened in the night," she said, when she had opened the windows.
Veronica opened her eyes wide and then rubbed them slowly with her slim, dark fingers and looked again at Elettra.
"It is a very terrible thing," continued the woman, gravely. "It happened in the night, and all was confusion, but I would not let them disturb you. They heard the pistol-shot and broke down the door. He was already dead. He had shot himself."
"Who?" asked Veronica, in instant horror. "Some one in the house? A servant?"
"No. I would not tell you--but you must know. It was Count Bosio."
Veronica turned pale and started up. "Bosio? Bosio dead?" she cried in a voice that was almost a scream.
The woman was sensible and understood her, and by that time the household was quiet, so that there was no fear lest any one else should come to Veronica's room.
But when she was quite sure of what had happened, Veronica wept bitterly for a long time, burying her face in her pillows and refusing to listen any more to Elettra. Then, if the woman had not prevented her, almost forcibly, she would have gone upstairs to see him where he lay dead. But Elettra would not let her go, for she knew that Matilde was there, and why; and moreover, it was not within her ideas of custom that a young girl should go and look at any one dead. But Veronica's tears flowed on.