He had, before the Prince had made his offer, begun to regret that in a moment of irritation he had been so precipitate in insisting upon leaving Vienna; but now that an offer of freedom, of a sojourn in Paris, of independent means, was made him, the proposal was too attractive to be declined. He felt, beside, that there was so much truth in the Prince's bitter phrase—when he was independent of his music, he felt certain that his music would be a great success.
"It will be better so, Faustina," he said at last; "you will be happier here. You will have plenty to sing, plenty to teach you. The Prince will be pleased."
She was still looking at him wonderingly, but a smile was slowly growing in her eyes. She judged him by a nature as generous and unselfish as his was paltry and mean.
"You are saying this," she said, "for my sake. You fear that I shall suffer hardship and want. You sacrifice yourself—more than yourself—for me."
This turn in the conversation completed the vexation of the Maestro. When you are doing a particularly mean thing, nothing is more aggravating than to have noble and generous motives imputed to you; and to have a very pretty woman offer herself to you, unreservedly, when motives of paltry selfishness render the offer unacceptable, is enough to provoke any man.
The old man lost his temper completely.
"Faustina," he said, "you are a fool. I have told you already that I intend to travel, without thinking of work or of pay. You must stay here. I shall not want you. You have everything here you can wish. The Prince is your lover. You have a brilliant future before you. Don't let me have any more trouble about you."
Still the girl could not believe that her friend and teacher meant to cast her off. She was looking at him wonderingly and sadly.
"Maestro," she said, "you are not well. You are cross and tired; we will not speak of this any more to-night. This worry has made you ill. To-morrow you will see quite differently. You can never leave your art—and Tina."
This feminine persistency, as it seemed to him—this leaving a discussion open which it was absolutely necessary should be closed that night—was too much for the Maestro.