I laughed at him, deeming his words but a blundering attempt to compel me to keep him. Italians are experts in threats and insinuations of evil.
“Well, Nello, I haven’t any fear, I assure you,” I replied. “You’ve been a most excellent servant to me, and I much regret that we should be compelled to part; but as for evil falling upon me during your absence, I must say frankly that I don’t anticipate anything of the kind.”
“But will not the signor padrone be warned?”
“Warned of what?” I cried, for everyone seemed to have some warning in his mouth for me. “Of what I have told you?”
“You want to go to England as my personal body-servant and guardian—eh?”
“I do,” replied the old man gravely.
“And because of that you’ve hit upon an exceedingly clever ruse by which to induce me to let you have your way,” I laughed. “No, once for all, Nello, you cannot go with me.”
He stood in silence for a few minutes, as still as though he were turned to stone.
Tears stood in the eyes of the affectionate old servitor. A lump had arisen in his throat, and I saw that with difficulty he swallowed it.
“You do not know my fears, signor padrone,” he said huskily. “It is for your own sake that I ask you to keep me as your servant—for the sake of your own future. If, however, you have decided, so it must be. Nello will leave you, signore; but he will not cease to be your humble and devoted servant.”