Would it
not be the act of a friend to advise him to cease this unhappy-- What
good can come of it? He neglects his own duties, and disturbs me in mine.
I sometimes ask myself would it not be kinder of me to give up my
business, or practice it elsewhere--Germany, or even Italy.
"Does he call on you?"
"No."
"Does he write to you?"
"Oh no. I wish he would. Because then I should be able to reply like a
true friend, and send him away. Consider, dear, it is not like a nobody
dangling after a public singer; that is common enough. We are all run
after by idle men; even Signorina Zubetta, who has not much voice, nor
appearance, and speaks a Genoese patois when she is not delivering a
libretto. But for a gentleman of position, with a heart of gold and the
soul of an emperor, that he should waste his time and his feelings so, on
a woman who can never be anything to him, it is pitiable."
"Well, but, after all, it is his business; and he is not a child:
besides, remember he is really very fond of music. If I were you I'd look
another way, and take no notice."
"But I cannot."
"Ah! And why not, pray?"
"Because he always takes a box on my left hand, two from the stage.
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