"That is what any one might guess," she said. "But there is more.
Signore, you and your friends meditate the assassination of the King of
Italy! and you call on an Englishman--an Englishman who has no love of
secret and blood-stained ways--"
"Stefan!" the mother cried, quickly, and she placed her hand on the
general's arm; "do not be angry. Do not heed her--she is a child--she is
quick to speak. Believe me, there are other reasons for our coming to
you."
"Yes, yes, my friend Natalie; all in good time. But I am most anxious to
put myself right with the signorina your daughter first of all. Now, my
dear young lady," he said, taking her hand, and putting it on his arm,
and gently compelling her to walk with him toward the opener space where
the sea-air was cool, "I again apologize to you for having spoken
unwittingly--"
"Oh, signore, do not trouble about that! It is no matter of courtesy or
politeness that is in the question: it is the life of one of one's
dearest friends. There are other times for politeness."
"Stefan," the mother interposed, anxiously, "do not heed her--she is
agitated.
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