ers, nor song of birds since then till now."
Annunziata laughed, "What a pretty compliment!" she said. "No one understands paying compliments as we Italians do. The French are too formal and forced; the Germans are too clumsy; and as for the English, they never pay compliments at all. But you are not to call me 'signorina,' if you please. Have you forgotten my name already?"
"I will call you Annunziata, if I may; I did not know whether you would like it. They paid you many compliments then—those foreign counts and dukes?"
Annunziata burst into one of her old hearty laughs. "An enormous number!" she said. "Luigi, you are a true Italian! It is lucky you were not with me in Paris. If you get jealous when I mention that strangers have made pretty speeches to me, what would you have done if you had heard them made? I believe you would have been capable of thrusting your knife into some of those poor young men."
"That is quite possible," remarked Luigi gloomily. "Annunziata," he resumed abruptly, after a short pause, "I have it on my mind to say something to you, and perhaps it had better be done at once!"
"Oh! no, dear Luigi—not if it is anything disagreeable! Do not say it—do not spoil my first day at home!"
"It is not disagreeable- that I know of—only I suppose it will be of no use. I want you to say you will marry me some day—there!"
"Oh, but, Luigi, you know that cannot be."
"Cannot be? I do not know that it cannot be. Why should it not be? Because I am poor, too ignorant, too common for you? You did not always think so. But I suppose nothing less than a duke or a prince will suit you nowadays."
"Ah! now you want to quarrel with me; but I will not quarrel. Listen, Luigi, and try not to be so hard and unjust. My life is no longer my own to dispose of. Signor Sassi has given me money, clothes, teaching—everything; and I must go on the stage, if it were only to repay him. I do not say that I would give up my profession now if I could—I would not. But you must see that I cannot, and that it is cruel and absurd to ask me to do such a thing."
"But I do not ask you to do it now. I only ask you to give me hope. Only say that in two or three years you will bp my wife, and I shall be the happiest man in all Italy. Annunziata, if you will not promise me that, I believe I shall go and drown myself!"
Annunziata burst into tears. "I cannot promise it—I cannot," she sobbed. "How can I tell whether I shall be free in two or three years to leave the stage? Very likely people will only then be beginning to listen to me. I don't want to marry anybody. Oh dear! oh dear! I wish there was no such thing as marrying in the world!"
Luigi was very much moved and humiliated at her distress^ He dropped on his knees before her, clasping his hands.
"Forgive me, my dear, forgive me!" he exclaimed. "I was rough and rude; but you do not know how I have suffered. You may sing at the opera to the day of your death, if you will, if only you will give me the right to go where you go, and live where you live. I need very little to live upon, as you know. I shall always be able to earn my own living, and no one need see me or hear of me but you. I could pass as your servant, if you wished it. God knows you could not have a more devoted one!"
Annunziata looked up, half-smiling through her tears. "As if I could let my husband occupy such a position as that! Believe me, dear Luigi, it is impossible. It is not your fault, nor mine; but our lives must be separate. I cannot come back to the old life here, nor could you be happy among the people I shall have to associate with."
"I know I am not fit to mix with your friends; but I can learn. I will take lessons in reading and writing—I will educate myself. Why should I not learn to be a gentleman, since you have become a lady?"
Annunziata saw a loophole of escape, and rushed at it. "If you really mean that, Luigi," she said—"if you could do that—but it will take a long time, you know—still, if you can learn to talk and behave as gentlemen do, so that you can associate with them without being unhappy—I might, in three years or so—but no! I will make no promises. It would be wrong to promise. Three years is such a long time, and so many things may happen ———"
But this encouragement, slight and vague as it was, sufficed to transform the despondent Luigi into a radiant and exultant conqueror. He started to his feet, and paced to and fro in the little room, beaming with happiness. "Now I have something to live for!" he shouted.
