At last I had a flash or inspiration. “What—what fine weather,” I gasped. “Che bel tempo!”
“Oh, molto bello,” she responded. It was like a cadenza on a flute.
“You—you are going into the town?” I questioned.
“Yes,” said she.
“May I—may I have the pleasure———” I faltered.
“But yes,” she consented, with an inflection that wondered. “What else have you spoken to me for?”
And we set off down the salita, side by side.
VII
She had exquisite little white ears, with little coral earrings, like drops of blood; and a perfect rosebud mouth, a mouth that matched her eyes for innocence and sweetness. Her scarlet hat burned in the sun, and her brown hair shook gently under it. She had plump little soft white hands.
Presently, when I had begun to feel more at my ease, I hazarded a question. “You are a republican, Signorina?”