He raised two fingers to his lips, and blew a kiss to all the world.
"Such complexions! A wild rose in every cheek! But listen, now; this is not about an English young lady. I go up to the Church of St. Mark—besides the bronze horses. I am enjoying the air, when I hear a sound; I turn; over there I see open windows; ah! the figure in the white dressing-gown! It is the diva herself. They play the Barbiere to-night, and she is practicing as she dusts her room. Una voce poco fa—it thrills all through the square. She puts the ornaments on the mantel-piece straight. Lo giurai, la vincero!—she goes to the mirror and makes the most beautiful attitude. Ah, what a spectacle—the black hair all down—the white dressing-gown—In sono docile"—and again he kissed his two fingers. Then he said,
"But now, you. You do not look one day older. And how is Natalie?"
"Natalie is well, I believe," said the other, gravely.
"You are a strange man. You have not a soft heart for the pretty creatures of the world; you are implacable. The little Natalushka, then; how is she?"
"The little Natalushka is grown big now; she is quite a woman."
"A woman! She will marry an Englishman, and become very rich: is not that so?"
"Natalie—I mean, Natalushka will not marry," said the other coldly. "She knows she is very useful to me. She knows I have no other."
"Maintenant: the business—how goes that?"