st in admiration over the
beautiful stuff. "So," said I, "you have been making purchases?" "Yes,"
she answered, "I wanted a new gown of white satin, and have been to buy
it." "You are always complaining that your salary is insufficient, but I
am glad to see that you can afford yourself this indulgence." "Sacchi
was with me this morning; he gave the merchant security; I have got the
stuff on credit, and three sequins a month are to be deducted from my
salary to pay for it." Now I have said that Teodora Ricci could not tell
a lie without betraying some confusion. I noticed a blush overspread her
face, and quietly resumed the conversation: "Well, you have not behaved
well by me. I know how punctual you are in paying debts, and have before
now given the same security for you on more than one occasion. Why did
you resort to Sacchi for this little service? You are not dealing
frankly with me." She blushed still deeper, and exclaimed with
irritation: "I suppose I must tell you the truth! That old man is madly
in love with me. He wants to give me the dress, and expects from me
what he will never get." I saw at a glance why the _capocomico_ had been
hiding from me, and began to address the following remarks to the young
actress: "Dear gossip, it is impossible that an old man of eighty can
have gone so far without encouragement from you. I have often noticed
that he ran away and hid himself on my approach. What reason had he for
doing this? You are sowing the seeds of dissension between me and an
associate of more than twenty years standing. You are painting me in
false colours to that man; and this is your return for a thousand
kindnesses. I have stood by you in your profession, and declared myself
the champion of your honour. Now, for a satin gown, you are going to
destroy the work of years. That white dress upon your shoulders will be
the filthiest, the most besmirched, the most shameful of your wardrobe.
It will be a robe of infamy, and work your ruin. Pray reflect that old
Sacchi has a viper for his wife, with two daughters, who hate and vilify
and slander you. Do you imagine that you will conceal your intrigues
from their curious eyes? No indeed. They will assail you with their
tongues, and having caught you in so vile an act, will spare nothing to
cast the truth in your teeth, as previously they spread abroad their
lies behind your back. I am speaking far more for you than for myself. I
can always save my honour by quitting