"I have come for a minute only," she said. "You received my letter?"
Rossi bent his head.
"David, I want the fulfilment of your promise."
"What promise?"
"The promise to come to me when I stand in need of you. I need you now.
My fountain is practically finished, and to-morrow afternoon I am to
have a reception to exhibit it. Everybody will be there, and I want you
to be present also."
"Is that necessary?" he asked.
"For my purposes, yes. Don't ask me why. Don't question me at all. Only
trust me and come."
She was speaking in a firm and rapid voice, and looking up he saw that
her brows were contracted, her lips were set, her cheeks were slightly
flushed, and her eyes were shining. He had never seen her like that
before. "What is the secret of it?" he asked himself, but he only
answered, after a brief pause: "Very well, I will be there."
"That's all. I might have written, but I was afraid you might object,
and I wished to make quite certain. Adieu!"
He had only bowed to her as she entered, and now she was going away
without offering her hand.
"Roma," he said, in a voice that sounded choked.
She stopped but did not speak, and he felt himself growing hot all over.
"I'm relieved--so much relieved--to hear that you agree with what I said
in my letter."
"The last--in which you wish me to forget you?"
"It is better so--far better. I am one of those who think that if either
party to a marriage"--he was talking in a constrained way--"entertains
beforehand any rational doubt about it, he is wiser to withdraw, even at
the church door, rather than set out on a life-long voyage under doubtful
auspices."
"Didn't we promise not to speak of this?" she said impatiently. Then
their eyes met for a moment, and he knew that he was false to himself
and that his talk of renunciation was a mockery.
"Roma," he said again, "if you want me in the future you must write."
Her face clouded over.
"For your own sake, you know...."
"Oh, that! That's nothing at all--nothing now."
"But people are insulting me about you, and...."
"Well--and you?"
The colour rushed to his cheeks and he smote the back of a chair with
his clenched fist.