“No, no,” I answered, “if you were like me you would not be so pretty.”
“I don’t think so; I think you are very handsome.”
“You flatter me.”
“Stay to dinner with us.”
“No, if I stayed I might fall in love with you, and that would be a pity, as your mother says I am your father.”
“I was joking,” said the countess, “you may love Irene with a good conscience.”
“We will see what can be done.”
When Irene had left the room, I said to the mother,—
“I like your daughter, but I won’t be long sighing for her, and you mustn’t take me for a dupe.”
“Speak to my husband about it. We are very poor, and we want to go to Cremona.”