'Come, my Dino; I know you better than you know yourself. Surely you are not going to refuse to do this for me?' he said.
He smiled again as De Rossi went off with the letter. If the Contessa did not like it—well? He thought of her pleasantly, holding, as he did, the easy Italian creed that, if money is the root of all evil, women are at least its flower. Still, if the Contessa did not like it, if by any chance she cared to make herself disagreeable—she could get into a rage; that was certain—well? He adjusted his sword belt a little and strolled back to his friends, whistling softly in an undertone.
'Been giving that young fellow a rating, eh, Gasparo? He looked at you at one moment as if he would not be sorry to measure the length of his knife against your ribs,' remarked one of the men who had been waiting for him.
'I was only giving him a commission. He's my foster-brother, by the way, that chap, and would go through fire and water to serve me. So much for your powers of discrimination, my Nello,' said Gasparo carelessly.
He linked his arm in that of his friend, and they lounged slowly away together through the crowded street.
Dino meanwhile was walking down the empty parade, on the farther side of that straggling, weather-beaten row of trees which stands between the Passeggiata and the low sea-wall. It was the same ground which he had trodden the night before in his despair, and now he was being sent over it again to carry a note at Gasparo's bidding. It was as if Fate had determined to ridicule each turn of his fortunes. He was tasting that experience which is common to all people who get into the way of considering their lives from the outside,—dramatically, as it were—the experience of those who, having many gifts, yet lack simplicity. He contemplated and criticised any mental crisis in which he found himself involved until it lost all sense of reality and became a situation. He was, if possible, too clever, too sensitive. He frittered his attention away on the by-play of life. As he walked along in the sunshine of that morning, beside the blue and placid sea, it was still very much of an open question with Dino what real rôle he was to enact in life; it would depend so much upon whom he met; upon association and circumstance; perhaps chiefly upon some secret pressure of influence; the gift or the curse of some unconscious soul.
He walked slowly, but it was not far to the entrance of the Stabilimento. Two men were lounging in the gateway. One of them looked hard at Dino, at his preoccupied face, and the careless workman's dress.
'Here! Give me your letter and I'll take it in for you, giovane mio, he said good-naturedly.
Dino threw back his head with an involuntary expression of annoyance.
'I carry my own messages,' he answered shortly.