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But what did I stay for? Next day he sent a letter to his friend in Berlin. He had not finished dressing, when a waiter announced the arrival of two gentlemen. One of them turned out to be Emil; the other, a good-looking and well-grown young man, with a handsome face, was Herr Karl Klueber, the betrothed of the lovely Gemma.

He need only lift his hand only step forward and say: "Padre, it is I." There was Gemma, too, with that white streak across her hair. Oh, if he could but forgive! If he could but cut out from his memory the past that was burned into it so deep the Lascar, and the sugar-plantation, and the variety show!

She asked Janet's name, volunteering the information that her own was Gemma, that she was a "fine speeder" in the Chippering Mill, where she had received nearly seven dollars a week. She had been among the first to walk out. "Why did you walk out?" asked Janet curiously. "Why? I get mad when I know that my wages is cut. I want the money I get married."

Gemma, with bare arms and an apron over her dress, was standing at a table, putting up little packages of cartridges for distribution. She had stood over the work since early morning; and now, in the glaring afternoon, her face looked haggard with fatigue. "A man, Cesare? What does he want?" "I don't know, dear. He wouldn't tell me. He said he must speak to you alone." "Very well."

The pamphlet was a skit on the wild enthusiasm over the new Pope with which Italy was still ringing. Like all the Gadfly's writing, it was bitter and vindictive; but, notwithstanding her irritation at the style, Gemma could not help recognizing in her heart the justice of the criticism. "I quite agree with you that it is detestably malicious," she said, laying down the manuscript.

"It would be interesting to know " Sacconi began; but several voices interrupted him. "Speak up; we can't hear!" "I should think not, with such an infernal row in the street," said Galli, irritably. "Is that window shut, Riccardo? One can't hear one's self speak!" Gemma looked round. "Yes," she said, "the window is quite shut. I think there is a variety show, or some such thing, passing."

Every week he trimmed his fingernails; every day or so, with a flush and a hangdog look, he drenched himself with perfume. Even while wearing that garment at thought of which Madonna Gemma, isolate in her chamber, still shivered and moaned Cercamorte resembled one who prepares himself for a wedding, or gallant rendezvous, that may take place any moment.

"I said it would be interesting to hear what is thought about the matter in Pisa and Leghorn. Perhaps Signor Rivarez can tell us something; he has just come from there." The Gadfly did not answer. He was staring out of the window and appeared not to have heard what had been said. "Signor Rivarez!" said Gemma.

'I ask only for one hour for reflection.... The daughter of my benefactor is involved in this.... And, therefore, I ought, I am bound, to reflect!... In an hour, in three-quarters of an hour, you shall know my decision. 'Very well; I will wait. 'And now ... what answer am I to give to Signorina Gemma?

You don't want me to die here at once before your eyes? Sanin was utterly nonplussed. It was the first time in his life he had had to deal with any one of ardent Italian blood. 'I will do whatever you like, he cried. 'I will talk to Fraeulein Gemma.... Frau Lenore uttered a cry of delight. 'Only I really can't say what result will come of it ...