“Caletto. English tourists don’t often find it out.”
“So we should make them welcome. Pray, signor, sit down, and take some wine; you have been walking—you are tired. Ah, you understand?”
“Yes, many thanks. But I am so hot and dusty—I am ashamed,” said Arthur, fancying he saw a look of slight disapproval in the younger lady’s face.
“Ah, we can excuse you. We are artists, signor; all comers are welcome. I have been in your country and sung on your boards, and so will Mademoiselle Mattei one of these days, I hope.”
This was in English, and then in a half-aside to Rosa in Italian: “Why not, Rosina? He is a handsome youth—and society is agreeable.”
Handsome young Englishmen were not quite the society Rosa desired at that moment. However, she could not be uncivil, and Arthur really looked both hot and tired so she said politely:
“Pray sit down and rest—it has been a hot day.”
“Thank you, since you are so kind,” said Arthur, seating himself, and thinking, as they drew near the table and Violante silently pushed the bottle of wine towards him: “How Jem would rave at such an encounter!”
“This is a beautiful place,” he said. “I wonder that it is so little known to English people generally.”
“Perhaps we like to keep some places a little to ourselves,” said Rosa, smiling.