"But my son insisted that I should come this
evening, when he found that I had not been able to see you this
afternoon."
"How is he?" asked the countess, suddenly assuming an expression of
great concern.
"Eh! How he is! He is--so," answered the Duca, with a gesture which
meant uncertainty. "Signora Contessa," he added, "he is not well at all.
It is natural with the young. It is passion. What else can I tell you?
He is impatient. His nerves shake him, and he does not eat. Morning and
evening he asks, 'Father, what will it be?' So, to content him, I have
come to disturb you."
"Not in the least, dear Duca!"
The door opened again, and Gregorio Macomer entered the room, having
been informed of the presence of a visitor. The Duca looked up, and his
head shook involuntarily, as he at once began the slow process of
getting upon his legs. But Macomer was already pressing him into his
seat again, holding the old hand in both of his with an appearance of
much cordiality.
"I hope that Gianluca is no worse?" he said, with an interrogation that
expressed friendly interest.
"Better he is not," answered the Duca, sadly. "What would you? It is
passion. That is why I have come at this hour, and I have made my
excuses to the Signora Contessa for disturbing her."
"Excuses?" cried Gregorio, promptly. "We are delighted to see you, dear
friend!"
But as he spoke he turned a look of inquiry upon his wife, and she
answered by a scarcely perceptible sign of negation.
Pages:
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43