The servant reappeared and announced, to Gilardoni's utter confusion, the imminent arrival of the Signora Marchesa. He waited and waited, and at last a great door, ornamented with gilding, swung open, a little moving bell tinkled, Friend trotted in, sniffing the floor to right and left, and was followed by a great bell-shaped mass of black silk, under a small cupola of white lace, while, between two blue ribbons, appeared the black wig, the marble brow, the lifeless eyes of the Marchesa herself.
"What miracle! The Professor in Lodi!" said the drowsy voice, while the small dog sniffed at the Professor's boots. Gilardoni made a low bow, and the lady, who might have been the jar containing the essence of old age, seated herself on one of the chairs near the fire, and installed her lap-dog on another; after which she motioned to Gilardoni to be seated also. "I suppose," said she, "that you have some relative at the convent of the 'Dame Inglese'?"
"No," the Professor replied, "I have not."
Sometimes the Marchesa was facetious in her own way. "Then," said she, "you probably came for a supply of _mascherponi_."[M]
"Not for that either, Signora Marchesa. I came on business."
"Indeed. You are unfortunate in the weather. I believe it is raining now."
At this unexpected digression the Professor came near losing his bearings. "Yes," said he, feeling that he was growing foolish, like the scholar whose examination is taking a bad turn. "It is drizzling."
His voice, his expression, could not fail to reveal his inward embarrassment, to show the Marchesa that he had come to tell her something important. However, she carefully avoided helping him to unburden himself, and continued to talk of the weather, the cold, the dampness, a catarrh from which Friend was suffering, while the dog punctuated his mistress's recital with frequent sneezes.
The drowsy voice had a calm, almost jocose inflection, a sort of bland benevolence, and the Professor was bathed in cold sweat at the bare thought of checking this mellifluous flow, and offering in exchange the bitter pill he had in his pocket. He might have taken advantage of a pause to pour forth his preamble, but he was not equal to it, and it was the Marchesa who seized the opportunity to close the interview.