They were little more than children yet, and for pretty nearly five minutes neither spoke a word, as their horses walked side by side.
"The keeper of the tower has more chickens this year," observed Aurora. "I can see them running about."
This remark was evidently intended as an overture of reconciliation. It acted like magic upon Marcello, who hated quarrelling, and was moreover much more in love with the girl than he knew. Instinctively he put out his left hand to take her right. They always made peace by taking hands.
But Aurora's did not move, and she did not even turn her head towards him.
"Take care!" she said quickly, in a low tone. "They are watching us."
Marcello looked round and saw that the others were nearer than he had supposed, and he blushed foolishly.
"Well, what harm would there be if you gave me your hand?" he asked. "I only meant—"
"Yes, I understand," Aurora answered, in the same tone as before. "And I am glad you like me, Marcello—if you really do."
"If I do!" His tone was full of youthful and righteous indignation.
"I did not mean to doubt it," she said quickly. "But it is getting to be different now, you know. We are older, and somehow everything means more, even the little things."