“I have forgotten yesterday, Incipit vita nuova! Do you remember I came to you dressed in Dante’s red lucco?”
“Yes, but you are not a bit like him.”
She came to the point presently. “Filippo, you say you want me?”
“More than anything in this world.”
Her eyes met his and held them. “Well, if you will get out of fighting M’sieur Michelin I will come to you—meet you—anywhere and at any hour after noon to-morrow.”
“Ah, you make conditions.”
“Of course.”
“How can I get out of fighting him? The man struck me, insulted me.”
“Yes,” she said, “and you know why!”
“I have asked your pardon for that,” he said with an effort that brought the colour into his face.