"The leopard?" said Marietta, at a loss.
"If the Devil may quote Scripture for his purpose, why may n't
I?" Peter demanded. "At all events, the Duchessa di
Santangiolo is a very beautiful woman."
The Signorino has seen her?" Marietta asked.
"I have grounds for believing so. An apparition--a phantom of
delight--appeared on the opposite bank of the tumultuous Aco,
and announced herself as my landlady. Of course, she may have
been an impostor--but she made no attempt to get the rent. A
tall woman, in white, with hair, and a figure, and a voice like
cooling streams, and an eye that can speak volumes with a
look."
Marietta nodded recognition.
"That would be the Duchessa."
"She's a very beautiful duchessa," reiterated Peter.
Marietta was Italian. So, Italian--wise, she answered, "We are
all as God makes us."
"For years I have thought her the most beautiful woman in
Europe," Peter averred.
Marietta opened her eyes wide.
"For years? The Signorino knows her? The Signorino has seen
her before?"
A phrase came back to him from a novel he had been reading that
afternoon in the train. He adapted it to the occasion.
"I rather think she is my long-lost brother."
"Brother--?" faltered Marietta.
"Well, certainly not sister," said Peter, with determination.
"You have my permission to take away the coffee things."