He gave a fierce nod.
"And you are disposed to resent my placing you in so anomalous a position as that which you now occupy?"
"Sir, never mind that. I admit you have disappointed me."
"I am sorry I cannot see how."
"How should you see? You are blinded by love."
"Signor Martelli, I must beg you to calm yourself. I cannot suffer such language as this."
"But, Sir, you provoke me!" he exclaimed, gesticulating and growing yet paler. "You raise expectations to disappoint them. When I came here, I secretly pledged myself to carry you through any schemes you had a mind to indulge. All my diligence, my time, my knowledge, my patience, I meant to give to you. I liked you, Sir. Your manners pleased me. It was charming to attend one so acute and so humble—so quick to perceive and so eager to be taught. And I too had my ambitions! They are gone."
"They are not gone, Martelli," I said, softened.
"They are, Sir!" he cried, clenching both fists. "It is a blow. I am a poor man. Had you let me do for you what I could have done, you would have requited me. Of that I am sure. Yes, Sir; I am not so ignorant of human nature as not to tell generosity when I see it; and yours is a generous mind. It made me this promise: it said, 'Martelli, serve me well, advance my schemes, impart the knowledge and the power your experience and learning can inspire, and when I have achieved the ends I covet I will reward you.' That is what you told me, Sir."