r own way. "Then," said she,
"you probably came for a supply of _mascherponi_."[M]

"Not for that either, Signora Marchesa. I came on business."

"Indeed. You are unfortunate in the weather. I believe it is raining
now."

At this unexpected digression the Professor came near losing his
bearings. "Yes," said he, feeling that he was growing foolish, like the
scholar whose examination is taking a bad turn. "It is drizzling."

His voice, his expression, could not fail to reveal his inward
embarrassment, to show the Marchesa that he had come to tell her
something important. However, she carefully avoided helping him to
unburden himself, and continued to talk of the weather, the cold, the
dampness, a catarrh from which Friend was suffering, while the dog
punctuated his mistress's recital with frequent sneezes.

The drowsy voice had a calm, almost jocose inflection, a sort of bland
benevolence, and the Professor was bathed in cold sweat at the bare
thought of checking this mellifluous flow, and offering in exchange the
bitter pill he had in his pocket. He might have taken advantage of a
pause to pour forth his preamble, but he was not equal to it, and it was
the Marchesa who seized the opportunity to close the interview.

"I thank you very much for your visit," said she, "and now I am going to
dismiss you, for you have your business to attend to, and, to tell the
truth, I also have an engagement."

Now or never he must take the leap.

"As a matter of fact," Gilardoni began, greatly agitated, "I came to
Lodi to speak with you, Signora Marchesa."

"I should never have been able to guess that," said the lady frigidly.

The Professor was carried forward by the impetus of his daring.

"It is a most urgent matter," said he, "and I must beg----"

"If it is a matter of business, you must apply to my agent in Brescia."

"Pardon me, Signora Marchesa, it is really a most important affair. No
one knows and no one must know that I have come to see you. I will tell
you at once that it concerns your grandson."

The Marchesa rose, and the dog that had been crouching in the armchair
also sprang up, barking in Gilardoni's direction.

"Do not speak to me of that person who no longer exists for me," the old
lady said solemnly. "Come, Friend!"

"No, Signora Marchesa," the Professor protested. "You cannot possibly
imagine what I have to tell you."

"I do not in the least care to know. I do not wish to hear anything.
Good-day to