"I wish," he said--"I wish, when you have to marry, I could choose your
husband, Maddalena."
She lifted her head quite up and regarded him with wonder.
"You, signorino! Why?"
"Because I would choose a man who would be very good to you, who would
love you and work for you and always think of you, and never look at
another woman. That is how your husband should be."
She looked more wondering.
"Are you like that, then, signore?" she asked. "With the signora?"
Maurice unclasped his hands from his knees, and dropped his feet down
from the bench.
"I!" he said, in a voice that had changed. "Oh--yes--I don't know."
He took the oars again and began to row farther out to sea.
"I was talking about you," he said, almost roughly.
"I have never seen your signora," said Maddalena. "What is she like?"
Maurice saw Hermione before him in the night, tall, flat, with her long
arms, her rugged, intelligent face, her enthusiastic brown eyes.
"Is she pretty?" continued Maddalena. "Is she as young as I am?"
"She is good, Maddalena," Maurice answered.
"Is she santa?"
"I don't mean that. But she is good to every one."
"But is she pretty, too?" she persisted. "And young?"
"She is not at all old. Some day you shall see--"
He checked himself. He had been going to say, "Some day you shall see
her."
"And she is very clever," he said, after a moment.
"Clever?" said Maddalena, evidently not understanding what he meant.
"She can understand many things and she has read many books."
"But what is the good of that? Why should a girl read many books?"
"She is not a girl."
"Not a girl!"
She looked at him with amazed eyes and her voice was full of amazement.
"How old are you, signorino?" she asked.
"How old do you think?"
She considered him carefully for a long time.
"Old enough to make the visit," she said, at length.
"The visit?"
"Yes."
"What? Oh, do you mean to be a soldier?"
"Si, signore."
"That would be twenty, wouldn't it?"
She nodded.
"I am older than that. I am twenty-four."
"Truly?"
"Truly."
"And is the signora twenty-four, too?"