"Why?"
"She would not have dared to do it."
"What does a girl not dare when she thinks it becomes her? Do not you see that her hand faltered as she wrote the words, 'Papa, who sends you his best love,' and only became steady again when she had got to the truth, 'he has another meeting this morning?' It is interesting and promising to see that the girl cannot even lie with the pen in her hand. We shall be able to learn from her everything we want to know."
"But what do we want to know?"
"What?" The faintest glimmer of a smile passed over Giraldi's dark eyes.
"Mi fai ridere, cara mia--we! Why, you do not yet know half."
"Then it must be your fault, my dear friend, for only telling me half. What could I know without your telling me?" He bent over her and took her hand which he pressed to his lips.
"Could I know anything, soul of my soul, that I should not immediately impart to you, as the eye and the ear impart their impressions to the mind, whose servants and slaves they are? And as faithful servants, because they are faithful, do everything for the best interests of their master, so I come this morning with the rich spoils of the four and twenty hours that have passed since I was last with you, to lay them at your feet and receive my reward in the smile of your lips."
"And why only this morning, faithless slave?"
"Yesterday evening, lady, my pockets were still almost empty; since then----"