Pandolfini gave a start of quick resentment, and looked at his friend, who had begun to be extremely anxious. Mr. Hunstanton’s ruddy countenance had fallen. He was limp and colourless with suspense. A look of fright had taken the place of that fine confidence which usually distinguished him. “Good heavens! _have_ I put my foot in it?” was what he was saying to himself, and the reflection of this question was very plainly to be read in his face. “What did you say?” said Pandolfini, somewhat hoarsely. “Follow it up? Yes, I understand: yes, yes, I go. You are right; I do not doubt you are right. But it is all--strange to me--and new,” he added, with a kind of smile which was not very consoling. It was a smile, however, and Hunstanton did his best to feel satisfied. “To be sure, to be sure,” he said, encouragingly. “This sort of thing is always new--and strange. Don’t be afraid. You’ll soon get used to it. You’ll find it come quite natural,” he added, slapping his friend on the back in a way that was intended to be jocular. “Come along, though, you must not be shy. If you make haste, you have time yet before dinner--indeed they dine early, I know.” “Before--dinner? but I am not dressed. I am not ready for the evening,” said Pandolfini, spreading out his hands with an air of dismay. “Dressed! fiddlesticks! at a moment like this. Pandolfini, you really disappoint me,” cried Mr. Hunstanton, feeling more uncomfortable than ever. “If you are going to shilly-shally like this, why on earth did you employ me? Think of that poor girl, after committing herself, kept waiting and wondering all this time, and not knowing what to think.” “I will come--I will come,” said Pandolfini, hoarsely; and he made half-a-dozen rapid steps in the direction of the Palazzo dei Sogni: then he stopped abruptly. “My best friend,” he said, with a smile, “you will let me follow you after, in a little--a very, very few minutes? This is, as you say, a moment----it raises the heart--there is much to think of. But I will come, almost as soon as you are there. Yes, I give you my word. But it is alone that I must go.” “Surely, surely,” cried good Mr. Hunstanton. “We’ll see you after, in the evening. God bless me! the fellow didn’t think I meant to go with him to Sophy,” he added within himself. “If that is manners in Italy, thank heavens it is not in England; and catch me making love for any man again! As sure as I am a living man, I thought he was going to cry off,” Mr. Hunstanton said to himself, with a cold perspiration breaking out all over him. He never had, he acknowledged afterwards, such a fright in his life.