Meanwhile, active preparations were made for an immediate departure.  The count informed his friends that he was going to pass Lent in Paris, on account of his daughter’s health, which was very poor, and in two days everything was ready.  They would leave on the following morning.  In the evening the count entered his daughter’s apartments, after causing himself to be formally announced by a servant, and briefly informed her that they would start for Paris on the following morning.  Her maid had been engaged in the meantime in packing her effects, not knowing whither her mistress was going.  Hedwig received the announcement in silence, but her father saw that she was deadly white and her eyes heavy from weeping.  I have anticipated this much to make things clearer.  It was on the first morning of Hedwig’s confinement that De Pretis came to our house.

Nino was soon waked by the maestro’s noise, and came to the door of his chamber, which opens into the little sitting-room, to inquire what the matter might be.  Nino asked if the maestro were peddling cabbages, that he should scream so loudly.

“Cabbages, indeed! cabbage yourself, silly boy!” cried Ercole, shaking his fist at Nino’s head, just visible through the crack of the door.  “A pretty mess you have made with your ridiculous love affair!  Here am I—­”

“I see you are,” retorted Nino; “and do not call any affair of mine ridiculous, or I will throw you out of the window.  Wait a moment!” With that he slammed his door in the maestro’s face, and went on with his dressing.  For a few minutes De Pretis raved at his ease, venting his wrath on me.  Then Nino came out.

“Now, then,” said he, preparing for a tussle, “what is the matter, my dear maestro?” but Ercole had expended most of his fury already.

“The matter!” he grumbled.  “The matter is that I have lost an excellent pupil through you.  Count Lira says he does not require my services any longer, and the man who brought the note says they are going away.”

“Diavolo!” said Nino, running his fingers through his curly black hair, “it is indeed serious.  Where are they going?”

“How should I know?” asked De Pretis angrily.  “I care much more about losing the lesson than about where they are going.  I shall not follow them, I promise you.  I cannot take the basilica of St. Peter about with me in my pocket, can I?”

And so he was angry at first, and at length he was pacified, and finally he advised Nino to discover immediately where the count and his daughter were going; and if it were to any great capital, to endeavour to make a contract to sing there.  Lent came early that year, and Nino was free at the end of Carnival,—­not many days longer to wait.  This was the plan that had instantly formed itself in Nino’s brain.  De Pretis is really a most obliging man, but one cannot wonder that he should be annoyed at the result of Nino’s four months’ courtship under such great difficulties, when it seemed that all their efforts had led only to the sudden departure of his lady-love.  As for me, I advised Nino to let the whole matter drop then and there.  I told him he would soon get over his foolish passion, and that a statue like Hedwig could never suffer anything, since she could never feel.  But he glared at me, and did as he liked, just as he always has done.