But
please don't fancy that I want to know everything you do, my dear boy.
You are quite old enough to take care of yourself, and quite sensible
enough, too. The only thing you had better avoid for a few years is
marriage!"
Folco laughed softly as he delivered this piece of advice, and lit a
cigar. Then he looked critically at Marcello.
"You are still very pale," he observed thoughtfully. "You have not got
back all your strength yet. Drink plenty of champagne at luncheon and
dinner. There is nothing like it when a man is run down. And don't sit
up all night smoking cigarettes more than three times a week!"
He laughed again as he shook hands and got into the carriage, and
Marcello was glad when he was gone, though he was so fond of him. It was
a bore to be told that he was not strong, because it certainly was true,
and, besides, even Folco was sometimes a little in the way.
In a week Marcello and Regina were in Venice; a month later they were in
Paris. The invaluable Settimia knew her way about, and spoke French with
a fluency that amazed Marcello; she even taught Regina a few of those
phrases which are particularly useful at a dressmaker's and quite
incomprehensible anywhere else. Marcello told her to see that Regina was
perfectly dressed, and Settimia carried out his instructions with taste
and wisdom. Regina had arrived in Paris with one box of modest
dimensions; she left with four more, of a size that made the railway
porters stagger.
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