the bottom of the boat, and her two hands, looking drowned, holding
lightly to the wood on each side of her. Even Gaspare, as he spoke, was
struck by this, and by the intensely youthful expression in the eyes
that now regarded him curiously.

"Really, Gaspare?"

Vere asked the question quite seriously.

"Si, Signorina."

"A woman!"

She looked down, as if considering herself. Her wet face had become
thoughtful, and for a moment she said nothing.

"And what did mother say?" she asked, looking up again. "But I know. I
am sure she laughed at you."

Gaspare looked rather offended. His expressive face, which always showed
what he was feeling, became almost stern, and he began to row faster
than before.

"Why should the Signora laugh? Am I an imbecile, Signorina?"

"You?"

She hastened to correct the impression she had made.

"Why, Gaspare, you are our Providence!"

"Va bene, but--"

"I only meant that I am sure Madre wouldn't agree with you. She thinks
me quite a child. I know that."

She spoke with conviction, nodding her head.

"Perhaps the Signora does not see."

Vere smiled.

"Gaspare, I believe you are horribly sharp," she said. "I often think
you notice everything. You are birbante, I am half afraid of you."

Gaspare smiled, too. He had quite recovered his good humor. It pleased
him mightily to fancy he had seen what the Padrona had not seen.

"I am a man, Signorina," he observed, quietly. "And I do not speak till
I know. Why should I? And I was at your baptism. When we came back to
the house I put five lire on the bed to bring you luck, although you
were not a Catholic. But it is just the same. Your Saint will take care
of you."

"Well, but if I am almost a woman--what then, Gaspare?"

"Signorina?"

"Mustn't I play about any more? Mustn't I do just what I feel inclined
to, as I did in the grotto just now?"

"Three is no harm in that, Signorina. I was only joking then. But--"

He hesitated, looking at her firmly with his unfaltering gaze.

"But what? I believe you want to scold me about something. I am sure you
do."

"No, Signorina, never! But women cannot talk to everybody, as children
can. Nobody thinks anything of what children say. People only laugh
and say 'Ecco, it's a baby talking.' But when we are older it is all
different. People pay attention to us. We are of more importance then."

He did not mention Ruffo. He was too delicate to do that, for
instinctively he understood h