He evidently never expected to see me alive again.
"Dinner over and paid for, my host put on his coat, said 'Good-night'
with rather an embarrassed air, and without looking at anyone in the
room--not even Roscoff, who made a move as if to intercept him--Roscoff
had some pictures of his own to sell--walked dejectedly out of the caffe
and disappeared in the night.
"When I crossed the traghetto the following evening the storm had not
abated. It was worse than on the previous night; the wind was blowing a
gale and whirling the fog into the narrow streets and choking up the
archways and _sotti portici_.
"As my foot touched the nagging of the Campo, Diffendorfer stepped
forward and laid his hand on my arm.
"'You are late,' he said. He spoke in the same crisp way he had the
night before. Whether it was an assumed air of bravado, or whether it
was his natural ugly disposition, I couldn't tell. It jarred on me
again, however, and I walked on.
"He stepped quickly in front of me, as if to bar my way, and said, in a
gentler tone:
"'Don't go away.
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