Maria Dolores (feeling an instant liking, as well as curiosity and admiration) smiled in her turn, and responded, "Good afternoon."
"You enjoy a fine view from here," the old lady remarked, ducking her sunshade in the direction of the valley.
"A beautiful view," agreed Maria Dolores, following the sunshade with her eyes.
Those of the stranger had a gleam. "But don't you think, if the unvarnished truth may be whispered, that it's becoming the merest trifle too hot?" she suggested.
Maria Dolores lightly laughed. "I think it is decidedly too hot," she said.
"I'm glad to find we're of the same opinion," declared the old lady, fanning herself. "You can positively see the heat vibrating there in the distance. We children of the North should fly such weather. For my part, I'm off to-morrow for England, where I can shiver through the summer comfortably in my chimney-corner."
Maria Dolores laughed out again.
"So I've driven over from Roccadoro," the newcomer continued, "to have a farewell look at a young man of my acquaintance who's staying here. I dare say you may know him. He has blue eyes and a red beard, a flattering manner and a pretty wit, and his name is Blanchemain."
"Oh?" said Maria Dolores, her eyebrows going up. "Is that his name? You mean the young Englishman who lives with the parroco?"
The old lady's eyebrows, which were thick and dark, went up too.