"Not to me!"
"I 'm responsible to myself," Rowland declared.
"My poor, dear fellow!" said Roderick.
"Oh, Mr. Mallet, are n't you satisfied?" cried Mrs. Hudson, in the tone
in which Niobe may have addressed the avenging archers, after she had
seen her eldest-born fall. "It 's out of all nature keeping him here.
When we 're in a poor way, surely our own dear native land is the place
for us. Do leave us to ourselves, sir!"
This just failed of being a dismissal in form, and Rowland bowed his
head to it. Roderick was silent for some moments; then, suddenly, he
covered his face with his two hands. "Take me at least out of this
terrible Italy," he cried, "where everything mocks and reproaches and
torments and eludes me! Take me out of this land of impossible beauty
and put me in the midst of ugliness. Set me down where nature is coarse
and flat, and men and manners are vulgar. There must be something
awfully ugly in Germany. Pack me off there!"
Rowland answered that if he wished to leave Italy the thing might be
arranged; he would think it over and submit a proposal on the morrow.
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