"I wish to commend some one to your care."
"An old man, a woman, and a little child."
The two men looked at each other in silence, one deeply moved, the other amazed.
"I commend my wife, my daughter, and the old uncle to your care," Franco replied.
"Oh!" the Professor exclaimed, looking in astonishment from one to the other.
"I am going away," said Franco, with a smile that went to Gilardoni's heart. "We have not told Uncle Piero yet, but I must go. In our position I cannot stay here doing nothing. I shall say I am going to Milan, and those who will may believe it, but I shall really be in Piedmont."
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.