I led him homeward with all possible tenderness, but I attempted neither to check his grief, to restore his equanimity, nor to unsay the hard truth. When we reached my hotel I tried to induce him to come in. "We 'll drink a glass of wine," I said, smiling, "to the completion of the Madonna."
With a violent effort he held up his head, mused for a moment with a formidably sombre frown, and then giving me his hand, "I 'll finish it," he cried, "in a month! No, in a fortnight! After all, I have it here!" And he tapped his forehead. "Of course she's old! She can afford to have it said of her,—a woman who has made twenty years pass like a twelvemonth! Old—old! Why, sir, she shall be eternal!"
I wished to see him safely to his own door, but he waved me back and walked away with an air of resolution, whistling and swinging his cane. I waited a moment, and then followed him at a distance, and saw him proceed to cross the Santa Trinita Bridge. When he reached the middle, he suddenly paused, as if his strength had deserted him, and leaned upon the parapet gazing over into the river. I was careful to keep him in sight; I confess that I passed ten very nervous minutes. He recovered himself at last, and went his way, slowly and with hanging head.
That I should have really startled poor Theobald into a bolder use of his long-garnered stores of knowledge
