‘I’m sorry,’ he said, after a long time.
‘For what, dear?’
‘You’ve been crying because I asked questions about papa. I’m sorry.’
She leant forward and took him in her arms quietly, and made him sit astride of her knees and look into her eyes while she held him by the wrists.
‘Little man,’ she said gently, ‘if you ever say anything that hurts me I promise to tell you just what it is, because I know you will never mean to hurt me, even when you are grown up. It was nothing you said that made me cry this afternoon, so there’s nothing for you to be sorry for—’ she smiled and shook her head—‘nothing, darling, nothing, nothing!’
Leone smiled too.
‘I’m glad,’ he said, and then his face grew grave and thoughtful again.
Maria wondered what was going on in his small head during the next few seconds. When he spoke at last she started.
‘Then it was the priest?’ he said with conviction. ‘I hate him.’