I repeat it. Leave
me, and when you have recovered your manners I will give you
something for yourself. You will get nothing so long as you demand
it as though it were a right."
"I will not leave this room without the money," answered Meschini,
resolutely. The bell was close to the door. The librarian placed
himself between the prince and both.
"Leave the room!" cried Montevarchi, trembling with anger. He had
so long despised Meschini, that the exhibition of obstinacy on the
part of the latter did not frighten him.
The librarian stood before the bell and the latch of the door, his
long arms hanging down by his sides, his face yellow, his eyes
red. Any one might have seen that he was growing dangerous.
Instead of repeating his refusal to go, he looked steadily at his
employer and a disagreeable smile played upon his ugly features.
Montevarchi saw it and his fury boiled over. He laid his hands on
the arms of his chair as though he would rise, and in that moment
he would have been capable of striking Meschini as he had struck
Faustina. Meschini shuffled forwards and held up his hand.
"Do not be violent," he said, in a low voice. "I am not your
daughter, you know."
Montevarchi's jaw dropped, and he fell back into his chair again.
Pages:
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493