“Are you a barber, Don Ernano?” asked Lucia with the gravity and firmness peculiar to her.
“Yes, it is on the sign-board, and I cut anybody’s hair when I am asked, but—but—do you want to sell your beautiful plait?” he asked, with quite a sad expression in his kind eyes.
“No, I don’t want to sell it, but I want it cut off, and I have come to ask you to do it for me,” answered Lucia firmly and decidedly.
“Must I really?” said Don Ernano, feeling a little cast down by the girl’s energetic tone and manner.
“Yes—you must—if you will,” was her rather odd answer, and therewith she hurried into the shop.
“If you knew how it grieved me!” began the barber again. “Is it a vow, signorina?”
“Something of the sort, but it is more than that to me,”was the short answer.
“Then you have quite made up your mind?” he ventured to ask once more.
“Will you do it or will you not, Don Ernano?” asked Lucia as if she were much offended and would leave the shop.
“Well—if it really must be done—please to sit down, signorina,” said the barber, moving reluctantly to the cupboard in which he kept his implements.