The Making of a Saint

by W. Somerset Maugham

'To say good-bye.'

'It is very late.'

'No, surely; sit down and talk to me.'

Checco did as he was bid, and I, seeing he meant to stay longer, sauntered off again in search of friends. The conversation between Checco and the Countess was rather hindered by the continual leave-takings, as the people began to go away rapidly, in groups. I sat myself down in a window with Matteo, and we began comparing notes of our evening; he told me of a new love to whom he had discovered his passion for the first time.

'Fair wind, foul wind?' I asked, laughing.

'She pretended to be very angry,' he said, 'but she allowed me to see that if the worst came to the worst she would not permit me to break my heart.'

I looked out into the room and found that everyone had gone, except Ercole Piacentini, who was talking to the Count in undertones.

'I am getting so sleepy,' said Matteo. We went forward to the Countess, who said, as she saw us come,—

'Go away, Matteo! I will not have you drag Checco away yet; we have been trying to talk to one another for the last half-hour, and now that we have the chance at last I refuse to be disturbed.'

'I would not for worlds rob Checco of such pleasure,' said Matteo; adding to me, as we retired to our window, 'What a nuisance having to wait for one's cousin while a pretty woman is flirting with him!'