“‘We owe you hearty thanks, Signor Andrea,’ said he, while he filled my glass and lighted a cheroot; ‘this is no weather to be out on the hills, though your desire to see little Christine must have helped you on the journey.’
“‘Diamine,’ replied I, ‘that is so; yet what says the proverb, “la povertà è la madre di tutte le arti”—the poor must dance when the rich pipe. Father, I could not refuse the Count’s invitation, and I doubt not that he will hold the fact in remembrance. Three days of labour have I lost in the coming, to say nothing of peril by the way. But this would I do again to-morrow, and more, if little Christine could be helped thereby.’
“He looked at me curiously, knocking the ashes off his cigar with much deliberation.
“‘Undoubtedly,’ said he, ‘the child owes much to you. It is your intention now, I understand, to carry her to Sebenico, and there to place her with the Sisters of the Perpetual Adoration. That would be a work of much merit.’
“‘Per nulla,’ said I, ‘all that is old talk. It is true that I mentioned the matter to the Count when he saw fit to make a charge of neglect against me; but he would not hear of it, and I confess that the burden would be heavier than my shoulders could bear. She has a good home here; why should I seek to check the providence of God and to take her from it?’
“He heard me out, and then, going first to see that the door of the room was shut, he drew his chair closer to mine, and unfolded his scheme.
“‘Signor Andrea,’ he said, ‘we are both men of the world. If others blind their eyes, that is no reason why we should walk in the darkness with them. You especially should be very ready to hear of any plan by which one you love may be snatched from the danger which is threatening her soul and the soul of a man whose every action I may not approve, but who is bound to me, nevertheless, by many ties of affection. You follow me?’
“‘Perfectly,’ I replied, ‘remembering always my own exceeding poverty.’
“‘As I remember it, and think of it in all I would do. It must be plain to you that the Count, my master, is not the one to entertain, even for a moment, the thought of marrying a little peasant girl out of Dalmatia——’
“‘And why not?’ cried I.