“And supposing he were to do so, would you care for him, Nina?” he demanded, jealously. “Surely not. Besides, you have no idea how conceited he is. He says he will never make love to a woman unless she first makes love to him; what do you think of that?”
She laughed again, more merrily than before.
“Think! Why, that he is very original—charmingly so! Are you coming in, Guido?”
He rose, and standing erect, almost lifted her from her chair and folded her in his arms.
“Yes, I am coming in,” he answered; “and I will have a hundred kisses for every look and smile you bestowed on the conte! You little coquette! You would flirt with your grandfather!”
She rested against him with apparent tenderness, one hand playing with the flower in his buttonhole, and then she said, with a slight accent of fear in her voice—
“Tell me, Guido, do you not think he is a little like—like Fabio? Is there not a something in his manner that seems familiar?”
“I confess I have fancied so once or twice,” he returned, musingly; “there is rather a disagreeable resemblance. But what of that? many men are almost counterparts of each other. But I tell you what I think. I am almost positive he is some long-lost relation of the family—Fabio’s uncle for all we know, who does not wish to declare his actual relationship. He is a good old fellow enough, I believe, and is certainly rich as Croesus; he will be a valuable friend to us both. Come, sposina mia, it is time to go to rest.”
And they disappeared within the house, and shut the windows after them. I immediately left my hiding-place, and resumed my way toward Naples. I was satisfied they had no suspicion of the truth. After all, it was absurd of me to fancy they might have, for people in general do not imagine it possible for a buried man to come back to life again. The game was in my own hands, and I now resolved to play it out with as little delay as possible.