‘Who do you mean by they?’ asked she.
‘The Frate, and the Count; perhaps, indeed, I owe the change more to him.’
‘What is his name?’
‘I never heard it. I only saw him once, and then for a short time.’
‘How old are you?’
‘I think, fifteen.’
‘Indeed. I should have thought you younger than I am,’ said she, half musingly.
‘Oh, no; I look much, much older,’ said Gerald, as he gazed at her bright and beautiful features.
‘Don Cesare,’ said she, turning to a pale old man beside her, ‘you must write to the rector of the college, and let us learn about this boy—how he came there, and why he left. And so,’ said she, addressing Gerald, ‘you think it beneath your quality to kiss a lady’s hand?’
‘No, no!’ cried he rapturously, as he knelt down and pressed her hand to his lips.