The tears streamed down my face as I sat. "Oh, my beloved Pisa," I thought again, "how can I bear to leave you!"
Once more came a knock at the door—the little, quick knock of the Marchesa; and as I responded duly, I reflected: "No doubt she comes to insult me with my salary. And the worst of it is, I shall have to take it; for if I don't, how am I to get home?"
She looked very unlike her usual, self-possessed self as she came towards me.
"Miss Meredith, my husband wishes to speak to you."
I rose wearily in mechanical obedience, and followed her, silent and dejected, downstairs to the Marchese's room. Here, amid his books and papers, sat the old man, looking the picture of wretchedness.
"Ah, signorina," he said, "what will you think of me, of us all? Of the favour which, very humbly, I have to beg of you? I cannot bear thus to part from my son; he is going far away from me, in anger, for an indefinite time. It is you, and you only, who can persuade him to stop!"
I look up in sudden astonishment.
"My child, go to him; tell him that he can stay."
"Marchese, I am sorry, but you ask what is impossible."