She shook her head slightly, evidently wishing to refuse, but very desirous of accepting, and her mica this time was almost polite. I took the bottle, which was covered with straw in the Italian fashion, and filling the glass I offered it to her.
"Please drink it," I said, "to bid us welcome to your country."
She took the glass with her usual look, and emptied it at a draught, like a woman tormented with thirst, and then gave it back to me without even saying "Thank you."
Then I offered her the cherries. "Please take some," I said; "we shall be so pleased if you will."
Out of her corner she looked at all the fruit spread out before her, and said so rapidly that I could scarcely follow her: "A me non piacciono ne le ciliegie ne le susine; amo soltano le fragole."
"What does she say?" Paul asked.
"That she does not care for cherries or plums, but only for strawberries."
I put a newspaper full of wild strawberries on her lap, and she ate them quickly, throwing them into her mouth from some distance in a coquettish and charming manner.
When she had finished the little red heap which we had seen rapidly diminishing, crushed and disappearing under the rapid action of her hands, I asked her:
"What may I offer you now?"