"Really, signora?" I replied, gravely.
"Do not laugh at me, signor," she retorted angrily. "One may be easily deceived when one loves; but the name of Grimani stands for personal courage."
"I do not doubt it, signora," I replied in the same tone.
"I beg you, therefore, signor," she continued, still speaking with involuntary vehemence, "not to come here again; for all this jesting might end badly."
"That is as you please, signora," I replied, as imperturbably as before.
"It is evident, however, signor, that you find it very amusing; for you do not seem disposed to put an end to it."
"If I amuse myself, signora, it is by way of being obedient, as we all amuse ourselves in Italy under the reign of Napoleon the Great. I wished to retire an hour ago, and it was you who forbade it."
"I forbade it? Do you dare to say that I forbade it?"
"I intended to say, signora, that you did not think of it; for I expected that you would give me some sort of a plausible pretext for taking my leave in the midst of my task; and, for my own part, it was impossible for me to imagine such a pretext. It would be so entirely unnatural in the present condition of the piano, and I am so firmly resolved to do nothing that can possibly compromise you, that I will return to-morrow."
"You will do nothing of the kind."