Returning again in about five
minutes, he restored their passports to all the passengers save the
fashionably dressed young man. To him he said sharply: "Come with me."
The young man turned pale, but got out in silence and did not return. In
a moment or two the door was closed, and a rough voice cried:
"_Avanti!_" The gentleman with the wart placed his travelling-bag on the
seat that was now vacant, but none of the other passengers gave any sign
of having noticed what had happened. Only when the four horses had once
more begun to trot did Gilardoni ask the priest, his neighbour, if he
knew the young man's name, but the priest's only answer was a cross
grunt, as he turned two terrified and suspicious eyes upon the
Professor. Beniamino now looked towards the other priest, who
immediately drew a rosary from his pocket and, having made the sign of
the cross, began to pray. Once more the Professor closed his eyes, and
the image of the unknown young man was lost for ever in the mist, like
the few and phantom-like trees, the poplars and willows, slipping past
on either side of the road.

"How shall I begin?" thought Gilardoni. Ever since Christmas Eve he had
done nothing but imagine and debate within himself how he should present
himself before the Marchesa, how introduce the subject, how explain it,
and what terms he should offer. This was the only point on which he was
clear. If the Marchesa would make her grandson a liberal allowance, he
would destroy the documents. He had not brought them with him, but he
had copies of them. Their effect would surely be tremendous, but how
should he begin? Not one of the many preambles he had thought of
satisfied him. Even now with closed eyes and fancy hard at work, he was
considering the question, starting from the only known factor: "Take a
seat. What can I do for you?" But invariably his answer would appear to
him either too obsequious or too daring, too remote from the subject or
too close to it, and he would once more go back to the beginning. "What
can I do for you?"

The pale light of dawn, dreary, sad, and sleepy, invaded the coach. Now
that the time for the interview was approaching, a thousand doubts, a
thousand fresh uncertainties upset all the Professor's plans. The very
base of his calculations suddenly collapsed. What if the Marchesa should
not say either, "Take a seat," or "What can I do for you?" What if she
should receive him in some other embarrassing manner? And what i