Gilardoni clasped his hands in silent amazement. Luisa embraced Franco
and kissed him, holding his head upon her breast, her eyes closed.

The Professor imagined it was painful to her to bow to her husband's
will in this matter.

"Now listen to me," said he, addressing Franco. "If war had broken out I
could understand your going, but as it is, I think you do wrong to cause
your wife so much suffering for a question of money."

Luisa who was still clinging with one arm to her husband's neck,
motioned to Professor Gilardoni with the other hand, entreating him to
be silent.

"No, no, no!" she murmured, once more clasping her arms about Franco.
"You are doing right! You are doing right!" As Gilardoni continued to
insist, she drew away from her husband, and cried, her hands extended
protestingly towards their host: "But, Professor, it is I who tell him
he is doing right! I, his wife, tell him so! Dear Professor, don't you
understand?"

"After all, dear lady," Gilardoni burst out, "it is time you were
informed----"

Franco flung his arms towards him, crying impetuously: "Professor!"

"You are doing wrong," the other replied. "You are doing wrong, very
wrong!"

"What is it, Franco?" Luisa demanded in astonishment. "Is there
something I do not know?"

"Only that I must go away, that I shall go away. That is all!"

Franco's exclamation, "Professor!" had awakened Maria with a start.
Seeing her mother's agitation she prepared to cry; presently she burst
into violent sobbing, and wailed: "No Papa! Papa not go away! Not go
away!"

Franco took her in his arms, kissing and caressing her, while she kept
repeating: "My Papa! My Papa!" in a pitiful, grieved voice that made
their hearts ache. Her father yearned over her, and protested that he
would always stay with her; but he wept at his own deceit, wept with the
emotion this new tenderness, springing up at such a moment, caused him.

Luisa was thinking of her husband's cry. Gilardoni saw she suspected a
secret, and, hoping to distract her thoughts, asked her if Franco
intended to start at once. Franco himself replied. Everything depended
upon a letter from Turin. Perhaps it would be a week, at the latest a
fortnight, before he started. Luisa was silent, and the subject was
dropped. Then Franco talked of politics, of the probability that war
would break out in the Spring. But again conversation soon languished.
Gilardoni and Luisa seemed to be thinking of something els