The quick blood covered her son’s face.
“You might, at least, refrain from slandering her!” he exclaimed. Then his voice became supplicating. “Mamma, all that Tacita Mora lacks is rank. She has a fair portion; and she has been delicately reared and guarded. Her manners are exquisite. And there can be no undesirable connection, for she will be quite alone in the world.”
His mother made an impatient gesture, and was about to speak; but he held his hands out to her.
“Mamma, I love her so!” he exclaimed. “You do not know her. She is not one of those girls who give a man opportunities, and are always on the lookout for a lover. We have never spoken a word of love. We have only looked at each other. But I cannot lose her!”
He threw himself on his knees at his mother’s side, and burst into tears.
She drew his head to her shoulder, and kissed him.
“You have only looked at each other!” she repeated. “My poor boy! As if that were not enough! Claudio, we all have to go through with it, as with teething. It is a madness. The only safe way is to follow the counsel of those who have had experience. It is only the pang of a day. This kind of passion does not endure; but order does. This is a passing fever of the fancy and the blood. Be patient a little while, and it will cure itself. Do not allow it to compromise your future. You will be glad of having listened to me when your love shall have died out.”
“It will never die!” he sobbed.
“It will die!” she said. “And now, listen to me. I have told the Sangredo that you are going to visit them this afternoon. It is a week since Bianca came home from school. You should have gone sooner. Go, and make yourself agreeable. If you do so, I will consent to your going once more to see Professor Mora, and I will myself go to inquire for him.”
The young man rose, and stood hesitating and frowning.