idst of our
enthusiastic talk upon this theme, "I am going to ask you a favor. I
know very little of my father as yet. I have not spent twelve hours in
his society, but it is easy to find out two things about it: he will be
mad to join in any effort that The Cause may make, and--"
She paused there, with a look of semi-embarrassment.
"And?" I interrogated.
"I think," she continued, "that he is likely to be very much influenced
by your opinion."
"We have scarcely exchanged a word together on that topic," I responded.
"Ah," she returned, quickly, "you have influenced his judgment without
that. He has formed opinions about you, and he has expressed them more
than once. He thinks you are a man of unusually solid character, and I
am sure you will be able to influence him greatly. You must remember,
too, what a debt of gratitude he owes you. The more warmly you are
disposed to The Cause yourself, the more necessary it seems to beg
you not to allow him to rush into any new danger. Give us, at least, a
little time in which to know each other before he leaves me again."
I promised earnestly that I would never say a word to induce him to
leave her side. I promised that if any undertaking should seem to
lead him into useless danger, I would do my best to warn him from the
enterprise. I promised further (but this was to myself, and I said no
word about it) that in the event of any effort being made the count
should be my comrade, and that I would do my loyal best for him.
That brought our conversation to an end, and I took leave of her, but
not before she had assured me that I should always be a welcome visitor.
I went away mighty proud and happy, and when I got home to my chambers
who should I find awaiting me but the Count Ruffiano, buttoned to the
throat to disguise the absence of the linen which had been so shabbily
conspicuous yesterday. He was in a state of intense excitement, and
when I entered was pacing up and down the room like one scarcely able to
control himself.
"Pardon this second intrusion, my dear sir," he began; "I will explain
its purport in a moment."
I induced him to be seated; but before he had got out half his statement
he was on his feet again, striding about my little room in such a heat
of excitement that, lean as he was, the perspiration fell in big drops
from his thatched eyebrows and the tip of his Quixote nose.
"To begin with, sir," he said, when I had persuaded him to be seated,
"y
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