“Dares not! That is rather a strong expression, my friend!” And I stroked my beard and looked at him steadily. He himself seemed to think he had spoken too openly and hastily—for he reddened as he said with a little embarrassment:
“Well, I did not mean that exactly—of course she is perfectly free to do as she likes—but she cannot, I think, refuse me after showing me so much encouragement.”
I waved my hand with an airy gesture of amicable agreement.
“Certainly not,” I said, “unless she be an arrant coquette and therefore a worthless woman, and you, who know so well her intrinsic goodness and purity, have no reason to fear. But, if not love or money, what is it that troubles you? It must be serious, to judge from your face.”
He played absently with a ring I had given him, turning it round and round upon his finger many times before replying.
“Well, the fact is,” he said at last, “I am compelled to go away—to leave Naples for a time.”
My heart gave an expectant throb of satisfaction. Going away!—leaving Naples!—turning away from the field of battle and allowing me to gain the victory! Fortune surely favored me. But I answered with feigned concern:
“Going away! Surely you cannot mean it. Why?—what for? and where?”
“An uncle of mine is dying in Rome,” he answered, crossly. “He has made me his heir, and I am bound for the sake of decency to attend his last moments. Rather protracted last moments they threaten to be too, but the lawyers say I had better be present, as the old man may take it into his head to disinherit me at the final gasp. I suppose I shall not be absent long—a fortnight at most—and in the meanwhile—”
Here he hesitated and looked at me anxiously.