“It is ready,” she said, her eye on the letter. “I will be your wife.”
“Joy!” he cried, and gave her a resonant kiss that startled two chess-players from their absorption and evoked a sneer from the caffè waitress.
That night Bertino went with Aunt Carolina to the ship. Before saying buon viaggio he handed her the letter for the sculptor.
“May you guard it well, my aunt!” he said solemnly. “It is of great value.”
CHAPTER IX
THE PERPETUA MEETS A BEAR
The lookout had sighted Genoa, but to many eager eyes that peered from the rail there lay naught in the northern distance save the imperial sapphire sparkling to the clear and eternal blue. After a while, the magic wand of proximity touching east and west, the great Mediterranean gem revealed its setting; the Riviera di Levante lazily unfolded her beauty to the eager men and women in the bow.
There was one passenger whose soul missed the enchantment. A matter of greater import filled her mind and dimmed her vision—her mission to secure a wife for Casa Di Bello. She did show an interest in the fairy picture that was coming out all around, but not until the ship had steamed so far shoreward that the hamlets of the slopes showed their shining faces through the mountain greenery. Then she stood intently regarding the land, her gaze set far above the white turrets and flaring walls of the Sea City that took form out of the yellow summer haze.
“O Genova Superba!
Qual Città te paragon?”