"Madonna Santissima!" she cried, shrinking back.
She crossed herself, and did not dare to meet Gloria's eyes again for some time.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
Sora Nanna showed her new lodgers their rooms. They were the ones Dalrymple had occupied long ago, together with a third, opening separately from the same landing. In what had been the Scotchman's laboratory, and which was now turned into a small bedroom, a large chest stood in a corner, of the sort used by the peasant women to this day for their wedding outfits.
"If it is not in your way, I will leave it here," said Sora Nanna. "There are certain things in it."
"What things?" asked Gloria, idly, and for the sake of making acquaintance with the woman, rather than out of curiosity.
"Things, things," answered Nanna. "Things of that poor girl's. We had a daughter, Signora."
"Did she die long ago?" inquired Gloria, in a tone of sympathy.
"We lost her, Signora," said Nanna, simply. "Look at these beds! They are new, new! No one has ever slept in them. And linen there is, as much as you can ask for. We are country people, Signora, but we are good people. I do not say that we are rich. One knows—in Rome everything is beautiful. Even the chestnuts are of gold. Here, we are in the country, Signora. You will excuse, if anything is wanting."