“Well, his name is Bertino Manconi. Do you know him? No? I will tell you: he is your nephew. He comes from Genoa. Do you know where that is? He once put a knife into your shoulder because he caught you playing the fool with his wife. Do you remember that?”
“Where is Bertino?” asked Signor Di Bello, his voice grave and husky, every other tongue in the room silenced.
“At my villa in the country. To-morrow you shall see him if you come with me.”
“I will go with you.”
“Very good. When my dandelions are sold out I shall be at your disposal.”
It was long past the dinner hour when Aunt Carolina heard the sound of her brother’s latch-key in the lock. She was in the hall when he entered. He did not feign surprise at seeing her. They embraced, and kissed each other on both cheeks.
“You are home a week before I expected you,” he said.
“Yes; I could not leave you alone any longer. Ah! my dear brother, San Giorgio has watched over us this day.”
“Why?” he asked, though aware that she, like all Mulberry, knew of his disappointment, and meant his deliverance from Juno.
Carolina answered, pointing to the untouched wedding feast: “We have many sweets that will not keep. They will be of use to Father Nicodemo for his poor.”