"He's mad!" interrupted Petrin, turning his face, which was round and red like the moon. "El diss, chi vaga magari a pe: i dventarà na gran roba (He says let them go if it's even on foot! they'll turn out great!)."
Then Gigi mimicked Gabri, who talked through his nose:—
"We could go to Milan, of course, but there's no university there which admits women, like the universities of Florence and Rome. Rome is the capital of Italy; we'll go there. I'll be a printer, and Gabrie shall study."
And Toscana mimicked Gabrie:—
"My brother shall print all my books."
"My dear children, I think you are jealous," said Regina.
"Oh!" they cried, cut to the quick, for Gigi did verily want to go to Rome for his college course, and Toscana, who had a pretty mezzo-soprano voice, had a plan of living at her sister's to learn singing.
Regina became thoughtful, guessing their own and their friends' dreams, and remembering her own earlier illusions. She vainly sought to shake off the sadness, the remorse, the presentiment of evil, which was weighing her down.
"And you, Petrin, I suppose you want to go to Rome too? Couldn't you bring Gabri and Gabrie in this chaise?"
"I'm going to Paris," the man answered, stolidly.