ely and took a whiff. Then he said:

"The Signorina is outside."

"Is she?"

Hermione looked towards the window.

"It is a lovely night."

"Si, Signora."

He took another whiff, and turned his great eyes here and there, looking
about the room. Hermione began to wonder what he had to say to her. She
was certain that he had come to her for some reason other than just to
ask if she had need of him.

"It does the Signorina good to get a breath of air before she goes to
bed," Hermione added, after a moment of silence. "It makes her sleep."

"Si, Signora."

He still stood calmly beside her, but now he looked at her with the odd
directness which had been characteristic of him as a boy, and which he
had not lost as a man.

"The Signorina is getting quite big, Signora," he said. "Have you
noticed? Per Dio! In Sicily, if the Signorina was a Sicilian, the
giovinotti would be asking to marry her."

"Ah, but, Gaspare, the Signorina is not a Sicilian," she said. "She
is English, you know, and English girls do not generally think of such
things till they are much older than Sicilians."

"But, Signora," said Gaspare, with the bluntness which in him was
never rudeness, but merely the sincerity which he considered due to his
Padrona--due also to himself, "my Padrone was like a real Sicilian,
and the Signorina is his daughter. She must be like a Sicilian too, by
force."

"Your Padrone, yes, he was a real Sicilian," Hermione said softly.
"But, well, the Signorina has much more English blood in her veins than
Sicilian. She has only a little Sicilian blood."

"But the Signorina thinks she is almost a Sicilian. She wishes to be a
Sicilian."

"How do you know that, Gaspare?" she asked, smiling a little at his
firmness and persistence.

"The Signorina said so the other day to the giovinotto who had the
cigarettes, Signora. I talked to him, and he told me. He said the
Signorina had said to him that she was partly a Sicilian, and that he
had said 'no,' that she was English. And when he said that--he said to
me--the Signorina was quite angry. He could see that she was angry by
her face."

"I suppose that is the Sicilian blood, Gaspare. There is some in the
Signorina's veins, of course. And then, you know, both her father and
I loved your country. I think the Signorina must often long to see
Sicily."

"Does she say so?" asked Gaspare, looking rather less calm.

"She has not lately. I think she is very happy here. Don't yo