The thick-falling drops were drenching the piazza, and its pavement was bubbling like a lake.
"The rain will last for some time," said Rossi, looking out, "and the matter I speak of is one of some urgency, therefore it is better that you should hear it now."
Taking the pins out of her hat, Roma lifted it off and laid it in her lap, and began to pull off her gloves. The young head with its glossy hair and lovely face shone out with a new beauty.
Rossi hardly dared to look at her. He was afraid that if he allowed himself to do so he would fling himself at her feet. "How calm she is," he thought. "What is the meaning of it?"
He went to the bureau by the wall and took out a small round packet.
"Do you remember your father's voice?" he asked.
"That is all I do remember about my father. Why?"
"It is here in this cylinder."
She rose quickly and then slowly sat down again.
"Tell me," she said.