Riccardo asked, "Isn't Rivarez here?" he answered
rather sulkily: "No; he seems to have
got something more interesting on hand, and
can't come, or doesn't want to."
"Really, Martini," said Galli irritably, "you
are about the most prejudiced person in Florence.
Once you object to a man, everything he does is
wrong. How could Rivarez come when he's ill?"
"Who told you he was ill?"
"Didn't you know? He's been laid up for the
last four days."
"What's the matter with him?"
"I don't know. He had to put off an appointment
with me on Thursday on account of illness;
and last night, when I went round, I heard that
he was too ill to see anyone. I thought Riccardo
would be looking after him."
"I knew nothing about it. I'll go round to-night
and see if he wants anything."
The next morning Riccardo, looking very pale
and tired, came into Gemma's little study. She
was sitting at the table, reading out monotonous
strings of figures to Martini, who, with a magnifying
glass in one hand and a finely pointed pencil
in the other, was making tiny marks in the pages
of a book.
Pages:
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261