Paolo’s very soul expanded with pleasure. He put his hand upon his shirtfront, and bowed over the little table, laden with the picture-books. He did not deprecate as an Englishman would have done, or disclaim any merit in this; but took the full credit of it with a pleasant consciousness of deserving it. He thought, however, that there had been enough of Oliver, and determined to push his own successful fortunes without further delay. “Miss Joscelyn, I hope, will stay long, a little while, two, tree weeks at Livorno? No! Oh! that is bad news, very bad news,” said Paolo, his face growing longer and longer as she shook her head.
“Only till to-morrow--to-morrow evening we are to go by the steamboat;” and Lydia, reverting to her own thoughts, recorded this statement with a sigh.
“You are sorry to leave the beautiful Italy. Ah! and Italy too will be desolated when so many charming Inglesi, so many beautiful ladies leave her shore--to-morrow! That is bad news, very bad news,” Paolo said.
“I am afraid Italy will not care very much,” said Lydia, with a little laugh. “The English come and go every year; but I don’t think I shall ever come back. For me it is once in my life,” she said, this time with a sigh; and the sigh was a sad one, for there came once more over her mind, which had been temporarily distracted by a new subject, all the heavy and troubled thoughts which had made her so restless and wretched for a few days past.
“No, no,” cried Paolo. “No, no--ah! pardon, it must not be one time in the Signorina’s life. She must return--she must return! There are impressions, made in a moment--which will nevare, nevare be effaced----”
Paolo was carried out of himself; he leaned across the table, almost kneeling at Liddy’s feet, and with the most passionate expression in his large liquid Italian eyes. Lydia on her side looked at the little man with the sublimest composure. She elevated her eyebrows the least in the world in mild surprise, and a passing wonder crossed her mind, immediately checked by the reflection that these were “Italian ways.” But Paolo’s rapt looks attracted the attention of others, if not of her to whom they were addressed. Two champions stepped forth immediately to the rescue. On one side Harry, hasty and disposed to be a little peremptory with his friend, and on the other Lionel, anxious and alarmed, thinking of course that any rival might come in at the last moment and “cut him out.”