He
very often does me the honour of conversing with me,--I may say
indeed of consulting me on subjects of art;--and I grieve to say
that I have of late observed a change in him. He is not like the
same man."
"Getting old, I suppose, like the rest of us," said Quinto.
"Like some of us," corrected Signor Ercole; "but, Lord bless you!
the Marchese is a young man--a young man, so to speak,--he's not
above fifty, and a very young man of his years; at least he was so a
month or two ago. But changed he is. Everybody has seen it. Let us
hope that it is merely some temporary indisposition. Ravenna can't
afford to lose the Marchese."
"I suppose we had better put off settling our little bit of business
till another time?" said Quinto. "Shall we say to-morrow, at the
same hour? And I will get that paper from the Marchese in the
meantime," returned Signor Ercole.
"That will suit me perfectly well; to-morrow, then, at my lodgings
at ten, shall we say?"
"At ten; I will not fail to wait upon you, Signor Lalli, at that
hour. In the meantime I beg you to present my most distinguished
homage to the divina Cantatrice," said the little impresario, taking
off his hat and holding it at arm's length above his head, as he
made a very magnificent bow.
"Servitore suo, stimatissimo Signor Ercole! A dimane!" replied old
Quinto, as he returned the impresario's salutation, with a slighter
and less provincial bow.
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