The pale light of dawn, dreary, sad, and sleepy, invaded the coach. Now that the time for the interview was approaching, a thousand doubts, a thousand fresh uncertainties upset all the Professor's plans. The very base of his calculations suddenly collapsed. What if the Marchesa should not say either, "Take a seat," or "What can I do for you?" What if she should receive him in some other embarrassing manner? And what if she should not receive him at all! Merciful heavens! What then? The sudden ringing of the sixteen hoofs on a paved way set his heart to beating. However, it was not yet the streets of Lodi, but those of Melegnano.
He reached Lodi at about nine o'clock, and got out at the Albergo del Sole, where they gave him a room without fire or sun. Not daring to brave either the fog in the street or the fumes in the kitchen, he decided to go to bed, and putting on his night-cap, which was acquainted with all his woes, he waited, a camphor cigarette between his lips, for the coming of noon and a happy thought.
At one o'clock he ascended the steps of the Palazzo X. with the wise determination to carefully forget all the speeches he had prepared, and to trust to the inspiration of the moment. A footman in a white tie ushered him into a large, dark apartment, with a brick floor, walls hung with yellow silk, and a stuccoed ceiling, and having bowed respectfully, went away. A few antique, white and gilt armchairs covered with red damask stood in a semicircle before the fireplace, where three or four enormous logs were burning slowly, behind the brass fender. The air was laden with the mixed odours of ancient mould, ancient cakes, ancient stuffs, ancient leather, and decrepit ideas, the whole forming a subtle essence of old age enough to shrivel the very soul.
The servant reappeared and announced, to Gilardoni's utter confusion, the imminent arrival of the Signora Marchesa. He waited and waited, and at last a great door, ornamented with gilding, swung open, a little moving bell tinkled, Friend trotted in, sniffing the floor to right and left, and was followed by a great bell-shaped mass of black silk, under a small cupola of white lace, while, between two blue ribbons, appeared the black wig, the marble brow, the lifeless eyes of the Marchesa herself.
"What miracle! The Professor in Lodi!" said the drowsy voice, while the small dog sniffed at the Professor's boots. Gilardoni made a low bow, and the lady, who might have been the jar containing the essence of old age, seated herself on one of the chairs near the fire, and installed her lap-dog on another; after which she motioned to Gilardoni to be seated also. "I suppose," said she, "that you have some relative at the convent of the 'Dame Inglese'?"
"No," the Professor replied, "I have not."
Sometimes the Marchesa was facetious in her own way. "Then," said she, "you probably came for a supply of mascherponi." [M]
"Not for that either, Signora Marchesa. I came on business."
"Indeed. You are unfortunate in the weather. I believe it is raining now."