“But one may be much interested in once only.”
“Oh, no.”
“Yes, that is true. I know it. Do not laugh, but give me your hand and swear that he does not at all interest you now.”
She did not give him her hand, but she raised her eyes to the narrow strip of blazing sky that glowed above the street and said solemnly:
“I swear upon my word and honor that I do not take the slightest interest in that English gentleman who so kindly raised and lowered my windows when I was on the St. Gotthard last week.”
Von Ibn drew a breath of relief.
“I am so glad,” he said; and then he added, “because really, you know, it had not been very nice in you to interest yourself only for the getting up of your window.”
“He put it down too,” she reminded him.
“That is quite nothing—to put a window down. It is to raise them up that is to every one such labor on the Gotthardbahn. To let them down is not hard; very often mine have fell alone. And much smoke came in.”
Rosina walked on and looked the other way, because she felt a need of so doing for a brief space. Her escort strolled placidly at her side, all his perturbation appearing to have vanished into thin air with the satisfactory disposal of the English problem. They came to the top of the street and saw the old town-wall and its towers before them. The sun was very hot indeed, and the tourists in cabs all had their parasols raised.