“You are right, dearest Hebe, do you go to bed, and I will read to you.”
She made no objection, so I took the Ariosto, and began to read the history of the Spanish princess who fell in love with Bradamante. I thought that by the time I had finished Clementine would be ardent, but I was mistaken; both she and her sister seemed pensive.
“What is the matter with you, dearest? Has Ricciardetto displeased you?”
“Not at all, he has pleased me, and in the princess’s place I should have done the same; but we shall not sleep all night, and it is your fault.”
“What have I done, pray?”
“Nothing, but you can make us happy, and give us a great proof of your friendship.”
“Speak, then. What is it you want of me? I would do anything to please you. My life is yours. You shall sleep soundly.”
“Well, then, tell us where we are going to-morrow.”
“Have I not already said that I would tell you just as we are going?”
“Yes, but that won’t do. We want to know now, and if you won’t tell us we shan’t sleep, all night, and we shall look frightful to-morrow.”