When I asked him how he knew that I visited Nina, he laughed and said it was a common topic of conversation all over the town.
The same evening I called on her without mentioning my conversation with the officer. There would have been some excuse for me if I had been in love with her, but as it was . . . I acted like a madman.
On the 14th of November I went to see her at the usual time. I found her with a man who was shewing her miniatures. I looked at him and found that he was the scoundrel Passano, or Pogomas.
My blood boiled; I took Nina's hand and led her into a neighbouring room, and told her to dismiss the rogue at once, or I would go to return no more.
"He's a painter."
"I am well acquainted with his history, and will tell you all about it presently; but send him away, or I shall go."
She called her sister, and told her to order the Genoese to leave the house and never to enter it again.
The thing was 'done in a moment, but the sister told us that as he went out he had said,—
"Se ne pentira." ("He shall be sorry for it.").
I occupied an hour in relating some of the injuries I had received from this scoundrelly fellow.