"To dine with people whom I hardly know, and who have not asked me? Besides, I told you that I meant to dine at home."
"At least, promise me that you will go with me to-morrow to the Villa Madama."
"No."
"Look here, Lamberti," said Guido, changing his tone, "you and I have known each other since we were boys, and I do not believe there exist two men who are better friends. I am not sure that the Contessina Palladio will marry me, but her mother wishes it, and heaven knows that I do. They are both perfectly well aware that you are my most intimate friend. If you absolutely refuse to go near them they can only suppose that you have something against them. They have already asked me if they are never to see you. Now, what will it cost you to be decently civil to a lady who may be my wife next year, and to her mother, who was your mother's friend long ago? You need not stay half an hour at the villa unless you please. But go with me. Let them see you with me. If I really marry, do you suppose I am going to have any one but you for my best man?"
Lamberti listened to this long speech without attempting to interrupt Guido. Then he was silent for a few moments.
"If you put it in that light," he said, rising to go, "I cannot refuse. What time shall you start? I will come here for you."
"Thank you," said Guido. "I should like to get there early. At four o'clock, I should say. I suppose we ought not to leave here later than half-past three."
"Very well. I shall be here in plenty of time. Good night."
When Guido pressed his hand, it was icy cold.