But his friends had no hope that this
would save them from the poem, if he could in anywise obtain a
hearing.
"Take care, he is putting his hand in his coat-pocket! That's where
it is, you know; he'll have it out in half an instant, if we stop
talking! Oh, Contessina, you are always so ready! Do invent
something to stop him, for the love of heaven!" said a young man to
a bright-looking girl next him.
"Oh, Signor Leandro, since you are riconciliato con bel sesso," said
the Contessina, alluding to words which, to the great amusement of
all Ravenna, Leandro had written in the album of a lady who asked
the poet for his autograph,--"since you are reconciled to the fair
sex, will you be very kind and see if I have left my fan where I put
off my shawl in the ante-room?"
"Bravo, Contessina; now let us get to another part of the room,
before he gets back. Oh, Ludovico," he continued, addressing the
young Marchese Castelmare, whom they encountered as they were
crossing the room, "for the love of heaven, let us begin! Make the
musicians strike up, or we shall have Leandro in full swing in
another minute!"
"I assure you, Signor Ludovico, the danger is imminent!" said the
Contessina.
"When I saw him at work last night at the Cardinal's pastry, I
thought he must have made himself too ill to come here to-night,"
said the former speaker; "but I suppose poets can digest what would
kill you or me!"
"If Leandro begins to read, I vote we all are seized with an
invincible fit of sneezing," said another of the grown-up children.
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