"How! Not jealous? You ought to be if you love me. That is a part of the rôle."
"We will love each other--until Lucca."
"What matters it? Before we arrive at Lucca you will be dead in love. And you, messieurs, artists who go on foot, where are you going will you permit me to ask?"
"We go to Pisa."
"To Pisa? A dead city, a great cemetery. The Arno is like a dirty old ditch. You had better come with us to Lucca. There I will give you all three a fig and adieu."
Then she commenced to sing again a merry song.
Jacob listened, and a feeling of weakness came over him; his brow was clouded, and, without replying, he left this joyous company, giving a headache as an excuse, and leaving Ivas to listen to Gigante. He was overcome with rage and emotion.
The husband of the poor forsaken Mathilde giving himself up to such distractions! It was easy to guess from this scene what her life was. Jacob suffered for her, and experienced a sensation of chagrin that he had not remained in Genoa where he could have been alone with her.
But soon he blushed at the thought that he would have dared to profit by the absence of Henri. "All is for the best," thought he. "I ought not to trouble her repose by my presence, for that would open old wounds in her heart, as in mine. Destiny has separated us. Great duties are before me. Her sadness increases. We have no right to glide into a paradise the entrance to which is forbidden. Fate urges me with an implacable lash. Let us go!"
Ivas returned to his lodgings late that night, after copious libations and a thousand jokes with the coquette, Gigante, who could not conceive any one indifferent to her, and had tried to interest them both at the same time. Signer Enrico, during his little affair, had given himself the name of Don Fernando, so as to pass for a Spaniard. He was very proud of the conquest, and acted as foolishly as his companion.