"What tales have you to tell?" she retorted. "Do you think it fitting to thus inconsiderately mention my poor Franco to me? How dare you meddle with my family affairs?"
"Excuse me," the Professor repeated, searching in his pocket. "If I do not meddle some one else may do so even less considerately. Kindly examine these documents. These——"
"Keep your scribblings to yourself," the Marchesa interrupted, seeing him draw some papers from his pocket.
"These are copies I have made——"
"I tell you to keep them, to take them away!"
The Marchesa rang the bell, and once more started to leave the room.
Gilardoni, quivering with excitement, hearing the approaching steps of a servant, and seeing her about to open the door, threw his documents upon one of the armchairs, saying hastily, in an undertone: "I will leave them here. Let no one see them. I am staying at the Sole, and will return to-morrow. Examine the papers, and think over them carefully!" And before the servant arrived he had rushed out at the same door by which he had entered, had seized his heavy cape, and fled downstairs.
The Marchesa dismissed the footman, and stood listening for a few moments. Then she retraced her steps, took up the papers, and went to her room, locking her door behind her. Having put on her spectacles she took her stand near the window, and began to read. Her brow was clouded and her hands trembled.
The Professor was preparing to go to bed in his icy room at the Sole when two police-agents came with a summons for him to appear at once at the police-station.