Madame Bernard rose with a little laugh and went to the parrot's perch, holding out her hand.
'Come, Coco!' she said, coaxing him. 'It is peace now, and we can go home to Paris again.'
'Paris' meant her bedroom in bird language; it also meant being bribed to be quiet with good things, and Coco strutted from his perch to her finger.
'Marche!' he commanded in a sharp tone, and as she moved he began to whistle the Marseillaise with great spirit.
She marched off, laughing and keeping step to the tune till she disappeared into her room, shutting the door behind her. As it closed Giovanni caught Angela's left hand and drew it to him. She laid her right on his, quietly and affectionately.
'Am I never to see you alone?' he asked, almost in a whisper.
'When you come to say good-bye before starting,' Angela answered. 'I will ask her to leave us quite alone then. But now it will only be for a minute or two.'
Thereupon, with the most natural movement in the world, she lifted her hands, brought his face close to hers and kissed him, drew back a little, looked gravely into his astonished eyes for some seconds, and then kissed him again.
'I love you much more than you love me,' she said with great seriousness. 'I am sure of it.'
It was all very different from what he had expected. He had vaguely fancied that for a long time every kiss would have to be won from her by a little struggle, and that every admission of her love would be the reward of his own eloquence; instead, she took the lead herself with a simplicity that touched him more than anything else could have done.