"We have an introduction to that great lady from a friend of ours at Parma."
"Papa!" cried Gabrie, red with indignation and pride, "I don't require any introductions! I snap my fingers at great ladies one and all! What could they possibly do for me?"
"My dear child," began Regina, pitying and sarcastic, "great ladies rule the world; and so——"
She stopped and turned pale, for there was a loud knock at the door. She fancied it the bicycling postman, who brought telegrams to the villages between Casalmaggiore and Viadana. But no; it was not he.
Evening fell—red and splendid as a conflagration. The three girls went out, and Regina lingered at the window, scrutinising the distance and looking for the telegraph messenger's bicycle.
The Master and Signora Tagliamari sat on a blue Louis XV sofa at the end of the room, and talked quietly. Now and then they threw a glance at Regina, who scarcely tried to conceal her sadness and disquiet. The Master, hoping she was listening, talked of the dreams and ambitions of his children.
"Well, as they wish it, we must let them work and conquer the world. What can they do here? Be a school-master? A school-mistress? No, thank you!"
"But if they go away, won't you miss them very much?"
"That's not the question, Signora Caterina! It's like a tearing out of the vitals when the young ones leave the parents. But the parents have brought them into the world to see them live, not vegetate. Ah, my children!" said the Master, stretching out his arms with great emotion, "the nest will remain empty and the old father will end his days in sorrow as, in truth, he began them; but in his heart, Signora Caterina, in his heart he will say with great joy, 'I have done my duty. I have taught my little ones to fly!' Oh, that my parents had done as much for me. Ah!"
Regina still looked out. She heard the Master's babble; she heard the fresh voices and the laughter of the three young girls who were strolling along the river; she watched the sky grow pale, diaphanous, tender green like some delicate crystal, flecked with little wandering clouds like a flight of violet-grey birds. She began to feel irritated. She knew not why. Perhaps because the girls made too much noise, or the Master was talking nonsense, or the postman did not appear out of the lonely distance.