‘Forget little Genevieve!’ Maxwell cried. ‘No, indeed. Whatever my engagements may be, I shall find time to see her; though, I daresay, the day will come when she will forget me easily enough.’
‘I am not so sure of that; she is a warm-hearted child. I tell you what we will do; and perhaps Sir Geoffrey and his daughter will join us. We will go down the day after to-morrow, and make a day of it.—Of course you will be one, Luigi?’
It was growing dark now, too dark to see the rich flush that mounted to the young Italian’s cheek. He hesitated a moment before he spoke. ‘With pleasure, Carlo. A day at your little paradise is not to be lightly refused. I will come gladly.’
‘You make a slight mistake, Visci, when you speak of Genevieve as a child,’ Maxwell observed reflectively. ‘She is seventeen—a woman, according to your Italian reckoning. At anyrate, she is old enough to know the little blind god, or I am much mistaken.’
‘I hope not,’ Visci returned gravely. ‘She is quick and passionate, and somewhat old for her years, by reason of the seclusion she keeps. But let the man beware who lightly wins her heart; it would go hard with him if I crossed his path again!’
‘There are serpents in every paradise,’ Maxwell replied sententiously; ‘and let us hope little Gen. is free from the curiosity of her original ancestress. But child or not, she has a woman’s heart worth the winning, in which assertion our silent friend here will bear me out.’
Luigi Salvarini started from his reverie. ‘You are right, Maxwell,’ he said. ‘Many a man would be proud to wear her gage upon his arm. Even I—— But why ask me? If I was even so disposed to rest under my own fig-tree, there are ties which preclude such a blissful thought.’
Maxwell whistled softly, and muttered something about a man drawing a bow at a venture—the words audible to Salvarini alone.
‘I am tied, as I told you,’ he continued coldly. ‘I do not know why you have drawn me into the discussion at all. I have sterner work before me than dallying by a woman’s side looking into her eyes’——
‘And not anything like so pleasant, I dare swear,’ Maxwell interrupted cheerfully. ‘Come, Luigi; do not be so moody. If I have said anything in my foolish way to offend you, I am heartily sorry.’