n Gilardoni, as red as a glowing coal, his eyes full of anxiety, his
recital often interrupted by such exclamations as, "For mercy's sake,
don't tell!--You will be silent, eh?" revealed all his secrets to her,
from the preserving of the will to his journey to Lodi. Luisa listened
to the very end, and then, clasping her face tightly between her hands,
uttered a horrified "Ah!"

"Did I do wrong?" said the poor Professor, much alarmed. "Did I do
wrong, Signora Luisina?"

"Very wrong! Terribly wrong! Forgive me, but it looked as if you were
proposing some transaction, some bargain, and the Marchesa is sure to
believe we are in league with you! Oh, it is awful!"

She wrung her clenched hands as if striving to press into shape, to
remodel a more level professorial head for him. In utter amazement the
poor Professor kept repeating: "Oh, Lord! Oh, dear me! Oh, what an ass
I am!" without really comprehending the nature of his blunder. Luisa
flung herself upon the parapet overhanging the lake, and stared into the
water. Suddenly she started up, beating the back of her right hand upon
the palm of her left, her face brightening. "Take me to your study,"
said she. "Can I leave Maria here?" The Professor nodded, and,
trembling, accompanied her to the study. Luisa took a sheet of paper and
wrote rapidly: "Luisa Maironi Rigey begs to inform the Marchesa Maironi
Scremin that Professor Beniamino Gilardoni is a most faithful friend of
both her husband and herself, but that they nevertheless heartily
disapprove of his inopportune use of a document which should have been
disposed of in a different manner. Therefore, no communication from the
Marchesa is either expected or desired."

When she had finished she silently held out the letter to the Professor.
"Oh no!" he exclaimed, as soon as he had read it; "For the love of
Heaven don't send that letter! What if your husband should find it out?
Think what a misfortune for me, for you yourself! And how can it
possibly be kept from your husband?" Luisa did not answer, but gazed
fixedly at him, not thinking of him, but of Franco; thinking that the
Marchesa might look upon the letter as a snare, an attempt to intimidate
her, she took it back and tore it in pieces, with a sigh. The Professor
became radiant, and wished to kiss her hand, but she protested. She had
not done it for his sake or for Franco's but for other reasons. The
sacrifice of this outlet for her feelings exasperated her still more