He stood up and laid his sensitive, long-fingered, musician's hand upon Dino's shoulder. 'Then that is settled. Bring the boat around to-night; and we start early in the morning,' he said slowly. He looked hard into Dino's face, and his lips worked as if on the point of adding something. But whatever it was the words remained unspoken. He turned away, and a moment later Dino heard him wishing Sora Catarina a grave 'Buon giorno!' as he passed through the outer room.
Later in the day Dino had spoken to his mother about his intention of absenting himself for an expedition of two or three days to Pisa. To his surprise Sora Catarina made not the least objection.
He postponed telling her until the last possible moment, acting in this on the opinion he had once heard Drea express about an angry woman's scolding. 'When a woman's got a tongue in her head, the wise man never speaks to her until he's putting his hat on; for it's no matter how hard the wind blows so long as it blows from astern.' But Catarina had not justified this prevision.
It was easy to see that she had something on her mind from the anxious glances which she kept casting in her son's direction, but it was not until he was just at the door and ready to start that she laid down her knitting resolutely, and said:
'My Dino, do you think your mother has gone blind? If you won't speak, I must. But things were different once. When you were a little lad,—it doesn't seem so long ago to me as to you, my boy,—you didn't wait for me to call you when you had hurt yourself. You were quick enough in coming to your mother when anything was paining you then. And a woman loses enough in seeing her children grow too big for her arms to hold 'em;—there's no need of their hearts outgrowing her as well.'
She spoke in a plaintive tone, her voice growing more and more complaining as she went on with her remonstrance; and as she ended she shut her lips tightly and took up her knitting again with an injured expression. 'Whatever you may choose to say, Dino, your mother is not blind.'
'Nay, mother, that is the last thing I should think of saying. But what is it now? You must not take fancies in your head about me, mother. I've not been complaining of anything, you know.'
'Oh, if it's a fancy in my head of course that's the end of it! I've nothing more to say; if it's a fancy that it's more than a week now since I've seen you sit down to eat your dinner like a Christian, as if you knew whether the dish before you were boiled beef or a boiled bone. And perhaps it's my fancy, too, those black rings under your eyes, and the new trick you've learnt of sighing!' She threw her knitting down upon the table, and crossed the room to where Dino was standing.
'My own boy, do you think I can't see that you are breaking your heart about that little girl, that Italia? And it's of no use, my Dino: believe your old mother in this. Her head is turned; she won't have a word more to say to you. There's no harm in the girl, but her head is turned.'
She hesitated for a moment, watching him anxiously. 'Dino! you know if I care for my other boy, my young master, that I nursed and looked after till I hardly could tell which I was fondest of, him or you. But, my Dino, he goes too often to Andrea's, does Gasparo. And that girl takes after her mother—a poor washy, big-eyed thing, who never knew if her soul was her own to pray for until she'd asked her husband. And the girl takes after her mother.'