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His father's blood resented the restraint of all ordinary conventions, and in the most profound inaction he had always morally and inwardly reserved the right to do what he pleased, if he should ever care to do anything at all. He was just going to dress for dinner that evening when Lamberti came in, a little more sunburned than usual, but thinner, and very restless in his manner.
"In simpler times," observed Lamberti, who liked to recall the middle ages, "we should have poisoned the old woman." Guido did not smile. "Without meaning to do her an injustice," he answered, "I think it much more probable that she would have poisoned me." "With the help of Monsieur Leroy, she might have succeeded."
"I never could understand what financiers and newspapers have to do with each other," she observed. "They seem to me so different." "There is not often any resemblance between a horse and his rider," said Lamberti, enigmatically. "Will you come this evening and tell us what the lawyer says?" Cecilia asked. "Yes, if I may." "Pray do," said the Countess. "We should so much like to know. Poor Guido!
"Lamberti and I were together, talking, and I said that nothing would ever induce me to marry an heiress, unless it were to save my father or mother from ruin. As that can never happen, all heiresses are perfectly safe from me! Do you mind my having said that?" "No. I am sure you were in earnest." A shadow had crossed her face at the mention of Lamberti's name.
I shall proceed alone, and have the rich booty to myself. You hear me! Farewell." "My Captain," said Lamberti, "if you should be captured without having succeeded?" "God protects me!" said Rinaldo, pointing to the sky. With these words he went out, and on his way he met the steward "That is the end of the page," said Lousteau, to whom every one had listened devoutly.
But she would not allow herself to dwell on that long, for it gave her pleasure to think of Lamberti, and all such pleasure she intended to deny herself. It was quite bad enough to know that she loved him with all her heart. She went back to her own room. There was nothing to be done but to write to Guido at once, for she would not allow the day to pass without telling him what she meant to do.
I did not believe him implicitly, but the ruins were in the right places. Then I walked up a bridge of boards to the house of the Vestals, and went in." "But there was no lady." "On the contrary," said Lamberti, and his eyes glittered oddly, "the lady was there." "The same one whom you had seen in your dream?" "The same.
He rose to go, moved by an impulse he could not resist. Guido looked at him in surprise, for he had expected his friend to wait for him. "Must you go already?" asked the Princess, in a colourless tone that did not invite Lamberti to stay. "But I suppose you are very busy when you are in Rome. Good-bye." As he took his leave, his eyes met Cecilia's.
The word was spoken as if it cost an effort. Lamberti held his stout stick with both hands over his crossed knee and leaned back, so that it bent a little with the strain. "My dear fellow," said Guido, with a little impatience, "it seems to me that you need not take so much trouble to spare my feelings! If you do not tell me who the man is, some one else will."
For the first time in his life, he felt something of its directness in himself, moving to a definite aim through the maze of useless complications, hesitations, and turns and returns of thought with which he was familiar in his own character. He smiled at the idea that he might end by resembling Lamberti, with whom to think was to feel, and to feel was to act.
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