"And how soon may we expect your betrothal to Signorina Maria?"
"I do not know yet, Toppi. But that is not the thing. I see you are dissatisfied. You do not trust Magnus?"
"Oh, Signor Magnus is a worthy man. But one thing I do fear, Mr. Wondergood, if you will permit me to be frank: he is a man who does not believe. This seems strange to me: how can the father of Signorina Maria be a non-believer? Is that not so? Permit me to ask: do you intend to give anything to his Eminence?"
"Oh! On Signor Magnus? So, so. And do you know that His Eminence has already been to see Signor Magnus? He was here a few days ago and spent several hours in this study. You were not at home at that time."
"No, I do not know. We have not spoken about that, but have no fear: we will find _something_ for the cardinal. Confess, old man: you are quite enchanted with that old monkey?"
Toppi glanced at me sharply and sighed. Then he lapsed into thought...and strange as it may seem--something akin to a monkey appeared in his countenance, as in the cardinal's. Later, from somewhere deep within him, there appeared a smile. It illumined his hanging nose, rose to his eyes and blazed forth within them in two bright, little flames, not devoid of wanton malice. I looked at him in astonishment and even with joy: yes that was my old Toppi, risen from his human grave.... I am convinced that his hair again has the smell of fur instead of oil! Gently I kissed his brow--old habits cannot be rooted out--and exclaimed:
"You are enchanting, Toppi! But _what_ was it that gave you such joy?"
"I waited to see whether he would show Maria to the cardinal?"
But Toppi remained silent. And as it had come so did the smile disappear, slowly: at first the hanging nose grew pale and became quite indistinct, then all at once the flames within his eyes went out--and again the old dejection, sourness and odor of church hypocrisy buried him who had been resurrected for a moment. It would have been useless to trouble the ashes with further questions.
This happened yesterday. A warm rain fell during the day but it cleared up towards evening and Magnus, weary and apparently suffering with headache, suggested that we take a ride into the Campagna. We left our chauffeur behind, a practice peculiar to all our intimate trips. His duties were performed by Magnus, with extraordinary skill and daring. On this occasion, his usual daring reached the point of audacity: despite the ever-thickening twilight and the muddy road, Magnus drove the automobile at such mad speed that more than once did I look up at his broad, motionless back. But that was only at first: the presence of Maria, whom I supported with my arm (I do not dare say embraced!) soon brought me to the loss of all my senses. I cannot describe it all to you--so that you would really feel it--the aromatic air of the Campagna, which caressed my face, the magnificence and charm of our arrow-like speed, my virtual loss of all sensation of material weight, of the complete disappearance of _body_, when I felt myself a speeding thought, a flying gaze....