"Good-night," Franco answered, and resumed the Milan Gazette.
As soon as his grandmother had left the room he flung the paper aside, clenched his fists, and giving vent to his anger in a sort of furious snort, sprang to his feet, saying aloud—
"Ah! It is better so! Better, better so!" It was better so, he continued to assure himself mutely. Better never to bring Luisa to this accursed house, better never to oblige her to bear this rule, this arrogance, this voice, this face! Better to live on bread and water, and look to hard work for the rest, rather than to accept anything from his grandmother's hand. Better become a gardener, d—— it! a boatman, or a charcoal burner!
He went up to his room determined to break with all obligations. "A score to settle with God!" he exclaimed, banging the door behind him. "A score to settle with God if I marry Luisa! Ah! after all, what do I care? Let them see me, spy upon me, bring her the news. Let them tell her, let them sing it to her in every key. I shall be delighted!"
He dressed himself in feverish haste, knocking against the chairs, and closing the drawers with a bang. In his recklessness he put on a black suit, went noisily downstairs, called the old footman, told him he should be out all night, and, not heeding the half-astonished, half-terrified face of the poor fellow, who was devoted to him, rushed into the street, and was lost in the darkness.
He had been gone two or three minutes when the Marchesa, who was already in bed, sent Carlotta to see who had come running downstairs. Carlotta reported that it was Don Franco, and was at once dispatched again on a second errand. "What did Don Franco want?" This time the answer was, that Don Franco had gone out for a few moments. The "few moments" was added out of kindness by the old servant. The Marchesa told Carlotta to go away, but not to put out the light. "You will return when I ring," said she.
It was past midnight when the bell sounded.
The maid hurried to her mistress.
"Is Don Franco still out?"