He sat by the window, and the sun poured through the panes upon his curling hair, his travelling dress, and his dusty boots.  The woman of the house brought in some wine and water; but he only sipped the water, and would not touch the wine.

“You are a dear, kind father to me,” he said, putting out his hand from where he sat, “and before we talk I must tell you how much I thank you.”  Simple words, as they look on paper; but another man could not have said so much in an hour as his voice and look told me.

CHAPTER XVI

“Nino mio,” I began, “I saw the contessina last night.  She is in a very dramatic and desperate situation.  But she greets you, and looks to you to save her from her troubles.”  Nino’s face was calm, but his voice trembled a little as he answered: 

“Tell me quickly, please, what the troubles are.”

“Softly—­I will tell you all about it.  You must know that your friend Benoni is a traitor to you, and is here.  Do not look astonished.  He has made up his mind to marry the contessina, and she says she will die rather than take him, which is quite right of her.”  At the latter piece of news Nino sprang from his chair.

“You do not seriously mean that her father is trying to make her marry Benoni?” he cried.

“It is infamous, my dear boy; but it is true.”

“Infamous!  I should think you could find a stronger word.  How did you learn this?” I detailed the circumstances of our meeting on the previous night.  While I talked Nino listened with intense interest, and his face changed its look from anger to pity, and from pity to horror.  When I had finished, he was silent.

“You can see for yourself,” I said, “that the case is urgent.”

“I will take her away,” said Nino, at last.  “It will be very unpleasant for the count.  He would have been wiser to allow her to have her own way.”

“Do nothing rash, Nino mio.  Consider a little what the consequences would be if you were caught in the act of violently carrying off the daughter of a man as powerful as Von Lira.”

“Bah!  You talk of his power as though we lived under the Colonnesi and the Orsini, instead of under a free monarchy.  If I am once married to her, what have I to fear?  Do you think the count would go to law about his daughter’s reputation?  Or do you suppose he would try to murder me?”

“I would do both, in his place,” I answered.  “But perhaps you are right, and he will yield when he sees that he is outwitted.  Think again, and suppose that the contessina herself objects to such a step.”

“That is a different matter.  She shall do nothing save by her own free will.  You do not imagine I would try to take her away unless she were willing?” He sat down again beside me, and affectionately laid one hand on my shoulder.

“Women, Nino, are women,” I remarked.

“Unless they are angels,” he assented.