less to see them,' I answered, smiling. 'But don't let me stand here as if I had it in my soul to tempt you to do anything base. Naturally you will understand I give up my rooms. I leave Venice immediately.' And I took up my hat, which I had placed on a chair. We were still there rather awkwardly, on our feet, in the middle of the sala. She had left the door of the apartments open behind her but she had not led me that way.
A kind of spasm came into her face as she saw me take my hat. 'Immediately—do you mean today?' The tone of the words was tragical—they were a cry of desolation.
'Oh no; not so long as I can be of the least service to you.'
'Well, just a day or two more—just two or three days,' she panted. Then controlling herself she added in another manner, 'She wanted to say some thing to me—the last day—something very particular, but she couldn't.'
'Something very particular?'
'Something more about the papers.'
'And did you guess—have you any idea?'
'No, I have thought—but I don't know. I have thought all kinds of things.'
'And for instance?'
'Well, that if you were a relation it would be different.'
'If I were a relation?'
'If you were not a stranger. Then it would be the same for you as for me. Anything that is mine—would be yours, and you could do what you like. I couldn't prevent you—and you would have no responsibility.'
