Dusk was already falling, and Odo, who had brought no letters to the
gentry of Vercelli, where he intended to stay but a night, began to
wonder how he should employ his evening. He had hoped to spend it in
Vivaldi's company, but the Professor not having invited him, he saw no
prospect but to return to the inn and sup alone with Cantapresto. In the
doorway of the Three Crowns he found the soprano awaiting him.
Cantapresto, who had been as mute as a fish during the afternoon's
drive, now bustled forward with a great show of eagerness.
"What poet was it," he cried, "that paragoned youth to the Easter
sunshine, which, wherever it touches, causes a flower to spring up? Here
we are scarce alit in a strange city, and already a messenger finds the
way to our inn with a most particular word from his lady to the
Cavaliere Odo Valsecca." And he held out a perfumed billet sealed with a
flaming dart.
Odo's heart gave a leap at the thought that the letter might be from
Fulvia; but on breaking the seal he read these words, scrawled in an
unformed hand:--
"Will the Cavaliere Valsecca accept from an old friend, who desires to
renew her acquaintance with him, the trifling gift of a side-box at Don
Tartaglia's entertainment this evening?"
Vexed at his credulity, Odo tossed the invitation to Cantapresto; but a
moment later, recalling the glance of the pretty girl in the
market-place, he began to wonder if the billet might not be the prelude
to a sufficiently diverting adventure.
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