"Forgive me, dear Barti," he said. "You've gone to no end of trouble for me, and I act like a bad-tempered tousin. Will you please go on about ... Hungary?"
Barti rushed into suggestions now. He wished, he said, with Amaldi's consent, to go forthwith to Hungary and make a thorough investigation of the legal questions involved.
"Ma!... Go if you think best," Amaldi said, when he had ended. Then added with irrepressible bitterness: "After all, what difference does it make to what country I sell my birthright?"
"Caro mio ... caro mio!..." muttered the old man, much upset.
"You understand, Barti," returned Amaldi quickly, "I am quite determined to be free if possible. I...." he hesitated, then went on emphatically: "I count it a small price to pay. What makes me bitter is that an Italian should not be able to free himself from a worthless woman in his own country. Yes, Barti, that makes me bitter, I confess."
They spoke together a few moments longer. When Amaldi left, it had been decided that Barti was to leave for Buda-Pesth that night.
LI
On the same afternoon, Amaldi sent Sophy a note, saying that he had some important things that he would like to talk over with her, and asking if she would not go with him again by gondola up the Brenta to see his mother.
"I feel," he ended, "that we could talk so much more quietly in the old garden there. Here in Venice there is always some interruption, and Lady Wychcote comes to stop with you on Tuesday. Then, too, it would be such a happiness for Baldi to see you again in this way. We could be back in Venice by six o'clock."