He lowered his eyes as he replied in an indistinct tone:
“Oh, certainly!”
“And you—you were a most loyal and faithful friend to him, in spite of the tempting bright eyes of his lady?”
Again he answered huskily, “Why, of course!” But the shapely hand that rested on the table so near to mine trembled.
“Well, then,” I continued, quietly, “the love you bear now to his fair widow is, I imagine, precisely what he would approve. Being, as you say, perfectly pure and blameless, what can I wish otherwise than this—may it meet with the reward it deserves!”
While I spoke he moved uneasily in his chair, and his eyes roved to my father’s picture with restless annoyance. I suppose he saw in it the likeness to his dead friend. After a moment or two of silence he turned to me with a forced smile—
“And so you really entertain no admiration for the contessa?”
“Oh, pardon me, I do entertain a very strong admiration for her, but not of the kind you seem to suspect. If it will please you, I can guarantee that I shall never make love to the lady unless—”
“Unless what?” he asked, eagerly.
“Unless she happens to make love to me. In which case it would be ungallant not to reciprocate!”