"I am at home to no one. Let me be."
But from the adjoining room he heard the importunate visitor's voice addressing him in beseeching accents:
"Excuse me, George; I must speak to you."
George recognized the voice of Alphonso Exili, and his annoyance was only the greater.
This Exili was a college chum, a man of mediocre intelligence, who, ruined by gambling and debauch, had become a parasite and adventurer.
He still appeared a handsome young man, in spite of his face devastated by vice; yet in his person and manners there was that indefinable cunning and ignobleness noticeable in persons reduced to living by their wits.
He entered, waited until the servant had retired, and assumed a distressed air. Then, swallowing half his words, he said: "Forgive me, George, if I have recourse once more to your kindness. I must pay a card debt. I want you to help me. It's a small sum. Only three hundred lira. Forgive me."
"What? You pay your card debts now?" said George. "I'm surprised."
He threw this insult at him with the most perfect sans-gêne. Not knowing how to break off all connection with the parasite, he treated him with contempt, just as one would use a stick to ward off a dirty animal.
Exili smiled.