“Forget it, Signor Marchese!  I am not likely to forget it for a long time to come, I assure you,” said the lawyer, not a little surprised.

“I mention it because I am anxious that you should not accuse me of acting with precipitancy in this matter; that when I shall renew my application to you, you may remember that I have had due and sufficient time for reflection.  Addio, Signor Giovacchino,” said the Marchese, reverting to the more friendly form of address; “addio, ed a rivederci fra poco!”

“Servo suo, Lustrissimo Signor Marchese. a rivederci!”

VIII

Lost in the Forest

Signor Fortini went straight home to his pleasant little snuggery under the wing,—­it might almost be said, under the roof,—­of the Cathedral, and sat down in his easy chair to resume the occupation that had been interrupted by the summons from the Marchese.  He took up the medal he had been examining, and the magnifying glass, in a manner that implied a sort of ostentatious protest to himself that the calm and even tenour of his own life and occupations was not to be disturbed from its course by all the follies and extravagances of the world around him.

But “mentem mortalia tangunt!” The glass was soon laid aside:  the medal remained idly in his hand, and his mind would recur to the things he had just seen and heard.

That an old bachelor should be caught at last by a pretty face, and make a fool of himself in his mature age, was no unprecedented phenomenon.  That a man, who had never in any way made a fool of himself at the proper age for such an operation, should, after all, do so when those who did so in their salad days have become wise, was not unheard of.  Nevertheless, Signor Fortini, who, in the course of his seventy years, had had a tolerably wide experience of mankind, was astonished that the Marchese Lamberto di Castelmare should have been tempted to act as he proposed to act.

“The very last man,” said Signor Fortini musingly to himself, “that I could have suspected of such a thing!  The man who has the highest reputation in the city for sound judgment and unexceptionable conduct, to turn out the greatest fool!  An old ass!  How little be dreams of what he is bringing upon himself.  Let alone the terrible fall, the disgrace,—­in every way, disgrace and contempt and ridicule!  It seems impossible, even now, that he should be in earnest.  He must be mad!  And, davvero, his manner was at times so strange, that I could almost believe he really is not quite in his right mind.  Very strange his manner was,—­very!  And very ill he looked, too.  Everybody has been saying that be looked ill,—­that he looked old,—­that there must be something wrong with him.  Wrong with a vengeance!  So this was the cause of it all:  the Marchese Lamberto is in love!  Bah!—­Bah!!—­Bah!!!—­(with crescendo expression of disgust).  Poor devil!  Well, I was in love once, or fancied myself so.