Paolo. I'll tell you. The day after to-morrow is Anna's birthday. Until the business kept me in Milan all of July, we always passed that day together—just Anna and I. We did not do this on purpose, but things turned out so. Last year I was able to be free early in July and we came here to stay until September. Well, three days before her birthday, Anna begged me to take her for a trip to Switzerland. She did not tell me, you understand, the reason for her desire, but insisted upon leaving immediately. We went to Interlaken and from there we went up to Murren. The day of Saint Anna we were at Murren. The place was so lovely, Anna liked it so much, that then and there I arranged for a chalet for this year. Fifteen days ago you—who never go anywhere, proposed to accompany us—
Mario. Did you find it indiscreet of me?
Paolo. No. You saw that Anna was pleased. She is very fond of you.
Mario. I know.
Paolo. When you had to postpone your leaving it was the same as to propose that we wait for you. But the first delay would still have allowed us to arrive in time; this second one will not and I, for my part, now especially desire to be there at the date arranged. It is childish if you wish—
Mario. No. All right. I will join you there.
Paolo. We postponed leaving until to-morrow to await you; but now that you cannot come immediately we could leave this evening. [Jumping up.] I must go—to get out of here. Those letters—
Mario. Burn them. Give them to me.
Paolo. Ah, no. Not yet.
Mario. Go. Go to-night; it is better. But will Anna be ready?