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The loud tones in which I spoke had brought round us all the people who were walking in the garden, and they arrived in time to hear me assail Cornelio with many other opprobrious terms.
By this time, I thought, I should have found her. I could not bear to think of his being ill, suffering, heart-broken, ruined, if he lost his voice by an illness, merely because I had not had the strength to do the best thing for him. Poor Nino, I thought, you shall never say again that Cornelio Grandi has not done what was in his power to make you happy.
Cornelio wept with vexation, Leonisa's parents for joy, and all the bystanders for admiration and sympathy. The bishop, who was present, led them with his blessing to the church, and dispensing with the usual forms, married them at once.
Soon afterwards he presented me with a box of cigars and a very pretty amber mouthpiece. The cigars were real Havanas, such as I had not smoked for years, and must have cost a great deal. "You may not be aware, Sor Cornelio," he said one evening, as he mixed the oil and vinegar with the salad, at supper, "that I am now a rich man, or soon shall be.
"That baron! an apoplexy on him! has illuded me with his promises of help," I said to myself. "He has no more intention of helping me or Nino than he has of carrying off the basilica of St. Peter. Courage, Cornelio! thou must gird up thy loins, and take a little money in thy scrip, and find Hedwig von Lira."
There stood the beautiful baroness, alone, with all her dark soft things around her, as pale as death, and her eyes swollen sadly with weeping. Nino had come home and told me something about the scene in the morning, and I can tell you I gave him a piece of my mind about his follies. "Does Professor Cornelio Grandi live here?" she asked, in a low, sad voice. "I am he, signora," I answered.
I, Cornelio Grandi, who tell you these things, have a story of my own, of which some of you are not ignorant. You know, for one thing, that I was not always poor, nor always a professor of philosophy, nor a scribbler of pedantic articles for a living.
I know not whether it was that those whom I assailed contented themselves with acting on the defensive as against a raving madman, or that it was my own good luck and adroitness, or Heaven's design to reserve me for greater ills, but the fact was that I wounded seven or eight of those who came under my hand. As for Cornelio, he made such good use of his heels that he escaped me.
Cornelio de Saavedra, one of the patriot leaders in the capital, succeeded, however, in preventing an open rising, since this would undoubtedly have been premature. A secret society was now formed in Buenos Aires, counting in its ranks Belgrano, Nicolas Rodriguez Peña, Manuel Alberdi, Viamonte, Guido, and others.
There you will find this inamorata, this lady-love of yours, for whom you are about to turn the world upside down." "What will you do yourself, Sor Cornelio?" he asked, smiling. "I will go now and get my donkey, and quietly ride up the valley to the Serra di Sant' Antonio," I said. "I am sure that the signorina will be more at her ease if I accompany you. I am a very proper person, you see."
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