“Listen to me, cousin, and do not treat me so badly. I see you do not like me, which proves I am not self-conceited; and I am not angry with you, which proves I am not malicious. Moreover, I greatly admire and love you, and yet (give [pg 747] me some credit for this) I do not pay court to you.”
“Come, Lando, no more of such jests, but come to the point.”
“I was about to beg you to show some confidence in me. You are sad, and I will tell you why: you have heard some nonsensical gossip about Lorenzo. Now, cousin, let me tell you....”
“What gossip?” I asked, turning red with an air of displeasure.
“You understand me perfectly well. I am certain I tell you nothing new. It may seem presuming to speak of this, but I must justify Lorenzo. Believe what I say, and do not attach any importance to a passing politeness in memory of former times, which means nothing, and really does not, on my word of honor, merit such a flash from your beautiful eyes.”
He had indeed found the means of making them flame up.
“Really, Lando,” said I haughtily, “it would serve you right if I never spoke to you again.”
But he was evidently so seriously astonished that I saw I was wrong. He had been presuming without knowing it or intending it. I therefore continued in a milder tone:
“I assure you, you are absolutely mistaken. I am neither sad nor anxious, ... only a little ennuyée, that is all. And to-night I am sleepy, and wish to return home as soon as possible. Give me your arm, and let us go in search of Lorenzo.”
“It is not much after midnight,” he said; “you must really remain a while longer to hear the last two pieces.”