Part 28 (1/2)
”Don't be surprised,” Marcello said, half apologetically, as if he were already weakening. ”I shall never do anything without your advice. Of course you know how I feel about all this, that I am leading a disorderly life, and--well, you understand!”
”Perfectly, my dear boy. I only wish to help you out of it as soon as possible, if you want to be helped. I'm quite sure that you will pull through in time. I have always believed in you.”
”Thank you. I know you have. Well, I'll ask you my question. You know well enough that I shall never care for society much, don't you?”
”Society will care for you,” answered Folco. ”What is the question?”
”I'm coming to it, but I want to explain, or it will not be quite clear.
You see, it is not as if I were a personage in the world.”
”What sort of personage? Please explain.”
”I mean, if I were the head of a great house, with a great t.i.tle and hereditary estate.”
”What has that to do with it?” Folco was mystified.
”If I were, it would make a difference, I suppose. But I'm not. I'm plain Marcello Consalvi, no better than any one else.”
”But vastly richer,” Folco suggested.
”I wish I were not. I wish I were a poor clerk, working for my living.”
”The air of this place is not good for you, my boy.” Folco laughed gaily.
”No, don't laugh! I'm in earnest. If I were a poor man, n.o.body would think it at all strange if--” Marcello hesitated.
”If what?”
”If I married Regina,” said Marcello rather desperately.
Folco's expression changed instantly.
”Was that the question you were going to ask me?” he inquired.
”Yes.”
Marcello grew very red and smoked so fast that he choked himself.
”Is there any earthly reason why you should marry her?” asked Folco very quietly.
”It would be right,” Marcello answered, gaining courage.
”Yes, yes, undoubtedly,” Folco hastened to admit. ”In principle it would undoubtedly be right. But it is a very serious matter, my dear boy. It means your whole life and future. Have you”--he hesitated, with an affectation of delicacy--”have you said anything to her about it?”
”I used to, at first, but she would not hear of it. You have no idea how simple she is, and how little she expects anything of the sort. She always tells me that I am to send her away when I am tired of her, to throw her away like an old coat, as she says herself. But I could never do that, you know. Could I?”
Marcello blushed again, hardly knowing why. Corbario seemed deeply interested.
”She must be a very unusual sort of girl,” he observed thoughtfully.