He went below and roused Adéle, who was bending over the photograph of the loved one, very much as a little child plays with a pretty toy.
"Come, mio caro," he exclaimed, "we are going on board another ship, which will take us to a great city. Put that thing away."
Adéle held up the picture, while a smile overspread her countenance.
"Isn't he lovely?" she asked.
Bambino set his lips firmly together, while the dark eyes—peculiar to the Latin race—flashed forth their fire.
"I can't say anything against him," he replied, "for I owe him much; but, cospetto! you and he will go to different places when you die."
"I am dead. You know that," said the simple-minded girl. "But will he not come to me in time and ask my pardon? Will he not fold me in his arms as of old and call me his darling?"
"Possibly."
"Oh, yes," said she, as her eyes rolled in an ecstasy of unbounded affection. "It must be so. There must be some recompense for the pure in heart, hereafter."
Bambino was touched.