“Please ask him to come up,” he said. “I want to speak to him.”
Two or three minutes later there was a knock at the door and Gaspare walked in, with a large-eyed inquiring look.
“Good-day, Gaspare. You’ve never seen my quarters before, I think,” said Artois, cordially.
“No, Signore. What a beautiful room!”
“Then smoke a cigar, and I’ll write an answer to this letter.”
“Thank you, Signore.”
Artois gave him a cigar, and sat down to answer the letter, while Gaspare went out on to the balcony and stood looking at the bathers who were diving from the high wooden platform of the bath establishment over the way. When Artois had finished writing he joined Gaspare. He had a great wish that day to break down a reserve he had respected for many years, but he knew Gaspare’s determined character, his power of obstinate, of dogged silence. Gaspare’s will had been strong when he was a boy. The passing of the years had certainly not weakened it. Nevertheless, Artois was moved to make the attempt which he foresaw would probably end in failure.
He gave Gaspare the letter, and said:
“Don’t go for a moment. I want to have a little talk with you.”
“Si, Signore.”