"Because I try not to think about it," she said, hurriedly. "Because I
try to think only of my work. And now, Signor Calabressa, you have given
me something else to think about; something to be my companion when I am
alone; and from my heart I thank you."
"But you speak as if you were in great grief, my little one. It is not
all over between you and your lover?"
"How can I tell? What can I say?" she exclaimed; and for a moment her
eyes looked up with the appealing look of a child. "He does not write to
me. I may not write to him. I must not see him."
"But then there may be reasons for delay and consideration, little
Natalushka; your father may have reasons. And your father did not speak
to me as if it were altogether impossible. What he said was, in effect,
'We will see--we will see.' However, let us return to the important
point: it is my advice to you--you cannot have forgotten it--that
whatever happens, whatever you may think, do not, little one, seek to go
against your father's wishes. You will promise me that?"
"I have not forgotten, signore; but do you not remember my answer? I am
no longer a child.
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