“All the more do I ask you to do this for the sake of our Beppo. His whole future depends on it.”
“If I do as you wish, Lily will have to accompany me.”
The Count uttered these words in a slow, hesitating voice.
The girl had no wish to act as eavesdropper, so she called out: “Is there anything I can do for you, Uncle Angelo?”
The Countess appeared at the window. She was flustered and looked annoyed.
“The truth is,” she exclaimed volubly, “that Beppo is in business relations with a Dutch gentleman. The matter concerns a British affair in which they are both interested, and we think you may be useful in assuring the Dutchman that things in England are going on quite well. You came so lately from London, and we think this person will take your word, when he would not take ours—” she waited a few moments, then said firmly, “I should like you to go now, so will you put on that pretty new coat and skirt? Then you can accompany Uncle Angelo to the Condamine.”
Lily hurried into the house, and a few minutes later the Countess was walking across the lawn to see them off.
“Do not say anything of this matter to Beppo,” she said anxiously.
And Lily answered: “Of course I won’t, Aunt Cosy.” But she spoke very coldly. She could not forgive the Countess Polda for having opened her letter.
The two ill-assorted companions went down the hill together in absolute silence. Count Polda was always a man of few words. But at last: