She laughed again, and again looked grave.
"Yes, yes!" she said, with a wise shake of her little glossy head, "one cannot live without work. My mother says that good women are never tired, it is only wicked persons who are lazy. And that reminds me I must make haste to return and prepare the eccellenza's coffee."
"Do you make my coffee, little one?" I asked, "and does not Vincenzo help you?"
The faintest suspicion of a blush tinged her pretty cheeks.
"Oh, he is very good, Vincenzo," she said, demurely, with downcast eyes; "he is what we call buon' amico, yes, indeed! But he is often glad when I make coffee for him also; he likes it so much! He says I do it so well! But perhaps the eccellenza will prefer Vincenzo?"
I laughed. She was so naive, so absorbed in her little duties--such a child altogether.
"Nay, Lilla, I am proud to think you make anything for me. I shall enjoy it more now that I know what kind hands have been at work. But you must not spoil Vincenzo--you will turn his head if you make his coffee too often."
She looked surprised. She did not understand. Evidently to her mind Vincenzo was nothing but a good-natured young fellow, whose palate could be pleased by her culinary skill; she treated him, I dare say, exactly as she would have treated one of her own sex. She seemed to think over my words, as one who considers a conundrum, then she apparently gave it up as hopeless, and shook her head lightly as though dismissing the subject.
"Will the eccellenza visit the Punto d'Angelo?" she said brightly, as she turned to go.
I had never heard of this place, and asked her to what she alluded.
"It is not far from here," she explained, "it is the view I spoke of before. Just a little further up the hill you will see a flat gray rock, covered with blue gentians. No one knows how they grow--they are always there, blooming in summer and winter. But it said that one of God's own great angels comes once in every month at midnight to bless the Monte Vergine, and that he stands on that rock. And of course wherever the angels tread there are flowers, and no storm can destroy them--not even an avalanche. That is why the people call it the Punto d'Angelo. It will please you to see it, eccellenza--it is but a walk of a little ten minutes."