"He was never imprisoned, I trust, for any crime?" inquired Mrs. Cleveland, more uneasy than ever at the recollection of Horace's rudeness to the stranger.
"Chi sa?" repeated the girl.
"I cannot believe," said the lady, "that there can lurk much harm in one with such a countenance, and such an exquisite voice."
"Oh, he's an Italian!" cried Horace, who rather prided himself on his prejudices.
Giuseppina lingered, fidgeting about the table, moving the dish now to the right, now to the left, as if she could never satisfy herself that she had placed it perfectly straight.
"Does this Raphael, as you call him," said Horace, "earn his living by his music?"
"Chi sa?" repeated Giuseppina, not looking up, but showing her teeth in a meaning smile.
"Does the idle fellow do nothing but sing and play?"
"He cures the sick also," replied Giuseppina; "he gathers herbs, and has wonderful power to take away fever, and to heal wounds from sword or from shot. But," she added, crossing herself, and shaking her head, "the abate (abbot) says that none can tell how he came by his knowledge."
"This Raphael is looked upon, then, as rather a suspicious character?"