“I don’t care about fortune.”
“Ah, but you will find it very pleasant when it comes—carriages and horses, a fine house, jewels, laurel wreaths, applause, all that is most intoxicating in life. It is for that you have been working so hard.”
“No, it is not for that. I have been working only to please you; so that you should say by-and-by, ‘This poor little Lisa, for whom I have taken so much trouble, is something more than a common lace-worker, after all.’”
“This poor little Lisa is a genius, I believe, and will have the world at her feet, by-and-by. And now, Si’ora, I must say good-bye. I am going into the country to-morrow.”
“For long?”
“Till after my marriage, perhaps.”
“Till after your marriage! And when you are married will you ever come and see me?”
“Perhaps; if you will promise never again to talk as foolishly as you have talked to-day.”
“I promise. I promise anything in this world rather than not see you.”
“If I come, be sure I shall come as your true and loyal friend. Ah, here is your son,” as a babyish prattle made itself heard in the little vestibule.