Sometimes he endeavored to assuage the fever of his spirit by a
rapid walk through the streets of Padua, or beyond its gates; his
footsteps kept time with the throbbings of his brain, so that the walk
was apt to accelerate itself to a race. One day, he found himself
arrested; his arm was seized by a portly personage who had turned back
on recognizing the young man, and expended much breath in overtaking
him.
"Signor Giovanni! stay, my young friend!" cried he. "Have you
forgotten me? That might well be the case, if I were as much altered
as yourself."
It was Baglioni, whom Giovanni had avoided, ever since their
first meeting, from a doubt that the Professor's sagacity would look
too deeply into his secrets. Endeavoring to recover himself, he stared
forth wildly from his inner world into the outer one, and spoke like a
man in a dream.
"Yes; I am Giovanni Guasconti. You are Professor Pietro Baglioni.
Now let me pass!"
"Not yet- not yet, Signor Giovanni Guasconti," said the
Professor, smiling, but at the same time scrutinizing the youth with
an earnest glance.
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