"P.S.—I open my envelope, to wonder if you can ever forgive me the humiliations you have suffered for my sake. To think that I threw you into the way of them! And merely to wipe out an offence that is not worth considering! I am ashamed of myself. I am also ashamed of the people about me. You will remember that I told you they were pitiless and cruel. They are worse—they are heartless and without mercy. But how bravely you bore their insults and innuendoes! I almost cry to think of it, and if I were a good Catholic I should confess and do penance. See? I do confess, and if you want me to do penance you will come yourself and impose it."
It was the first letter that David Rossi had received from Roma, and as he read it the air seemed to him to be filled with the sweet girlish voice. He could see the play of her large, bright, violet eyes. The delicate fragrance of the scented paper rose to his nostrils, and without being conscious of what he was doing he raised the letter to his lips.
Then he became aware that Bruno was still in the room. The good fellow was in the shadow behind him, pushing things about under some pretext and trying to make a noise.
"Don't let me keep you up, Bruno."
"Sure you don't want anything, sir?" said Bruno with confusion.
David Rossi rose and walked about the room with his slow step.
"You have something to say to me?"
"Well, yes, sir—yes, I have."
"What is it?"
Bruno scratched his shock head and looked about as if for help. His eyes fell on the letter lying open in the light on the desk.