"It is natural, Excellency," answered the sailor, a deep blush spreading over his white forehead as he stood bareheaded before her. "You are a great lady and I am only an ignorant seaman."
"I do not mean anything of the sort, Ruggiero," said Beatrice quickly, for she saw that she had unintentionally hurt him, and the thought pained her strongly. "You speak very well and I have always understood you perfectly. But you spoke of the King's Children and I could not make out what they had to do with the story."
"Oh, if it is that, Excellency, I ask your pardon. I do not wonder that you did not understand. It is my name, Excellency."
"Your name? Still I do not understand—-"
"I have no other name but that—dei figli del Rè—" said Ruggiero. "That is all."
"How strange!" exclaimed Beatrice.
"It is the truth, Excellency, and to show you that it is the truth here is my seaman's license."
He produced a little flat parchment case from his pocket, untied the thong and showed Beatrice the first page on which, was inscribed his name in full.
"Ruggiero of the Children of the King, son of the late Ruggiero, native of Verbicaro, province of Calabria—you see, Excellency. It is the truth."
"I never doubt anything you say, Ruggiero," said Beatrice quietly.