y black
hair, "it is indeed serious. Where are they going?"

"How should I know?" asked De Pretis angrily. "I care much more about
losing the lesson than about where they are going. I shall not follow
them, I promise you. I cannot take the basilica of St. Peter about
with me in my pocket, can I?"

And so he was angry at first, and at length he was pacified, and
finally he advised Nino to discover immediately where the count and
his daughter were going; and if it were to any great capital, to
endeavour to make a contract to sing there. Lent came early that year,
and Nino was free at the end of Carnival,--not many days longer to
wait. This was the plan that had instantly formed itself in Nino's
brain. De Pretis is really a most obliging man, but one cannot wonder
that he should be annoyed at the result of Nino's four months'
courtship under such great difficulties, when it seemed that all their
efforts had led only to the sudden departure of his lady-love. As for
me, I advised Nino to let the whole matter drop then and there. I told
him he would soon get over his foolish passion, and that a statue
like Hedwig could never suffer anything, since she could never feel.
But he glared at me, and did as he liked, just as he always has done.

The message on the handkerchief that Nino had received the night
before warned him to keep away from the Palazzo Carmandola. Nino
reflected that this warning was probably due to Hedwig's anxiety for
his personal safety, and he resolved to risk anything rather than
remain in ignorance of her destination. It must be a case of giving
some signal. But this evening he had to sing at the theatre, and,
therefore, without more ado, he left us, and went to bed again, where
he stayed until twelve o'clock. Then he went to rehearsal, arriving an
hour behind time, at least, a matter which he treated with the coolest
indifference. After that he got a pound of small shot, and amused
himself with throwing a few at a time at the kitchen window from the
little court at the back of our house, where the well is. It seemed a
strangely childish amusement for a great singer.

Having sung successfully through his opera that night, he had supper
with us, as usual, and then went out. Of course he told me afterwards
what he did. He went to his old post under the windows of the Palazzo
Carmandola, and as soon as all was dark he began to throw small shot
up at Hedwig's window. He now profited by his practice in the