Letizia stood rapt like a saint that expects a corporeal assumption to the seventh heaven.
“It’s time I went up,” she breathed.
“Not yet,” Caleb pleaded, in horror of the moment when that lewd and accursed mob should gloat upon her slim form.
“It is. It is! Let me go, Caleb! Gemini, you crazy fool, you’ll make me late.”
Letizia sprang away from his detaining arms.
“Why don’t you set fire to your shirt, Caleb, and slide down behind me?” she called back to him in mockery.
There were shouts of enthusiasm when the figure of Letizia stood up dimly against the stars. Followed a silence. Old John Gumm fired the fizgigs and the serpents. With a shriek of triumphant joy Letizia launched herself from the mast. High above the wondering murmurs of the crowd her mother’s voice resounded.
“Che bella ragazza![5] Brava! Bravissima! Avanti, figlia mia! Che forma di Venere!”[6]
[5] “What a lovely girl!”
[6] “Forward, my daughter! What a figure of Venus!”