“I fancy it must be Lady Charlotte. You will not see her?”
Merthyr was anticipating a negative, but Emilia said, “Let her come in.”
She gave her hand to the lady, and was the less concerned of the two. Lady Charlotte turned away from her briskly.
“Georgey didn't say anything of you in her letter, Merthyr; I am going up to her, but I wished to satisfy myself that you were in town, first:—to save half-a-minute, you see I anticipate the philosophic manly sneer. Is it really true that you are going to mix yourself up in this mad Italian business again? Now that you're a man, my dear Merthyr, it seems almost inexcuseable—for a sensible Englishman!”
Lady Charlotte laughed, giving him her hand at the same time.
“Don't you know I swore an oath?” Merthyr caught up her tone.
“Yes, but you never succeed. I complain that you never succeed. Of what use on earth are all your efforts if you never succeed?”
Emilia's voice burst out:—
“'Piacemi almen che i miei sospir sien quali
Spera 'l Tevero e 'l Arno,
E 'l Po,—'”
Merthyr continued the ode, acting a similar fervour:—