“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Philip, leaving him and Colin together.
Salvatore poured himself out some more of the nectar when the door had closed (he was making sure of taking a bottle at least with him), and pointed dramatically to his heart.
“My noble and venerated brother-in-law has never rallied from the shock of your mother’s death,” he said. “His heart broke. He lives only for the day when he will rejoin her. Till then it is a solace to him to minister to those who were nearest and dearest to Rosina. So generous a heart! Do you think I made a good impression on him to-day?”
“Admirable! Excellent!” said Colin. “Now talk to me about the old days, Uncle Salvatore. A glass of brandy? Did you see my father that year he spent in Italy, when he married my mother, and when I was born?”
Salvatore paused in the sipping of his brandy and made a splendid scowl with gesture of fist and rolling eyes. Quick as a lizard, Colin saw that he must appear to know facts which hitherto were only conjecture to him, if he was to learn the cause of these grimaces.
“I know all, of course, Uncle Salvatore,” he said. “You can speak to me quite freely.”
“And yet you ask if I was there!” said Salvatore. “Should I have permitted it? I was but a boy of eighteen, and in a bank at Rome, but, had I known, boy as I was, I should have gone to your father and have said, ‘Marry my sister out of hand or face the vengeance of Salvatore Viagi.’”
Colin held out his hand. “You would have done well, Uncle Salvatore,” he said. “I thank you for my mother’s sake.”
This was so deeply affecting to Salvatore that he had to take a little more brandy. This made him take a kindlier view of his noble brother-in-law.
“Yet I wrong him,” he said. “There was no need for Salvatore Viagi to intervene for his sister’s honour. She died Countess of Yardley, an alliance honourable to both of our families.”