'There's no time to lose, dear Signor Ci . . . cippa. . .'
'Tola,' the old man chimed in. '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?'
Sanin took a sheet of paper, wrote on it, 'Set your mind at rest, dear friend; in three hours' time I will come to you, and everything shall be explained. I thank you from my heart for your sympathy,' and handed this sheet to Pantaleone.
He put it carefully into his side-pocket, and once more repeating 'In an hour!' made towards the door; but turning sharply back, ran up to Sanin, seized his hand, and pressing it to his shirt-front, cried, with his eyes to the ceiling: 'Noble youth! Great heart! (Nobil giovanotto! Gran cuore!) permit a weak old man (a un vecchiotto!) to press your valorous right hand (la vostra valorosa destra!)' Then he skipped back a pace or two, threw up both hands, and went away.
Sanin looked after him . . . took up the
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