The marchesa, who found the count decidedly troublesome, not to say impertinent, had opened her lips to give an unqualified negative, but another glance from Trenta checked her.
"An excellent idea," put in the cavaliere, before she could speak. "With me, marchesa—with me" he added, looking at her deprecatingly.
Trenta loved Enrica better than any thing in the world, but carefully concealed it, the better to serve her with her aunt.
"As for me, I am ready for any thing." And, to show his agility, he rose, and, with the help of his stick, made a glissade on the floor.
Baldassare laughed out loud from the corner. It gratified his wounded vanity to see his elder ridiculous.
Marescotti, greatly alarmed, started forward and offered his arm, in order to lead the cavaliere back to his seat, but Trenta indignantly refused his assistance. The marchesa shook her head.
"Calm yourself," she said, looking at him compassionately. "Calm yourself, Cesarino, I should not like you to have a fit in my house."
"Fit!—chè chè?" cried Trenta, angrily. "Not while I am in the presence of the young and fair," he added, recovering himself. "It is that which has kept me alive all this time. No, marchesa, I refuse to sit down again. I refuse to sit down, or to take a hand at your rubber, until something is settled."
This was addressed to the marchesa, who had caught him by the tails of his immaculate blue coat and forced him into a seat beside her.
"Vive la bagatelle! Where shall we go? You cannot refuse the count," he added, giving the marchesa a meaning look. "What shall we do? Let us all propose something. Let me see. I propose to improve Enrica's mind. She is young—the young have need of improvement. I propose to take her to the church of San Frediano and to show her the ancient fresco representing the discovery of the Holy Countenance; also the Trenta chapel, containing the tombs of my family. I will try to explain to her their names and history.—What do you say to this, my child?"