‘Yes!’ she laughed. ‘Dear old Balduccio! You are just the same reserved, formal silly old thing you were when we went to the dancing-class at Campodonico’s, ever so long ago!’
‘Am I?’
‘Yes. But as I just happened to meet Maria, you need not pretend to be vague. You know how frank I am, so I’m sure you would rather be sure at once that I know, and that I will not tell any one!’
’Dear friend,’ returned Castiglione blandly, ‘what in the world are you talking about?’
Again Teresa laughed gaily.
‘Always the same! But as I met Maria Montalto only a moment ago, it’s not of the slightest use to tell me that you two have not been for a little walk together! Do you think I blame you? Haven’t you behaved like a couple of saints for more years than I like to remember? No one can find any fault with you, of course, but for Heaven’s sake walk in the Corso, or in the Via Nazionale, where every one can see you, instead of in such a place as this!’
‘But I have not met the Countess at all,’ answered Castiglione with some annoyance, when she paused at last to take breath.
‘Oh! Oh! Oh!’ she cried, shaking her finger at him. ‘It’s very wrong to tell fibs to an old friend who only wishes to help you!’
‘You may think what you please,’ he answered bluntly. ‘I have not met the Countess this afternoon. I have been to see a sculptor who has his studio in this street.’