Don Riccardo gave a low laugh of depreciation. “Mario Forza saved her life,” he reminded her. “If the fact has slipped your memory, it is not so with Hera.”
“I know,” Donna Beatrice argued, “but there are things to remember as well as things not to forget.”
“My dear sister, let our girl indulge this natural sentiment of thankfulness.”
“Thankfulness?” the other questioned, raising her brows.
“And what else? Come, my Beatrice, the strain of this wedding business has wrought upon your nerves. When the fuss is over you must go to the Adriatic for a rest.”
She said it was considerate of him, but she did not feel the need of rest. In a corner of the reception hall they found Hera at the piano, Mario beside her, turning the page. They asked him to sing, and he began a ballad of the grape harvest in Tuscany. It pictured the beauty of the rich clusters, the sun-burned cheeks and rugged mirth of the peasant maids, stolen kisses, troths plighted, and the ruby vintage drunk at the wedding feast. The song was manly and sung in a manly voice.
While his clear baritone filled the room and Hera played the accompaniment the feelings of Don Riccardo were stirred deeply. From his chair by the wall he looked sadly upon his daughter and his old comrade’s son, and hoped, for her sake, that what might have given him gladness at one time would not happen now. The words of his sister had moved him more than he let her know. What if Mario Forza had come into her heart? What if the marriage to which she was to go should prove the funeral of a true love? What if that were added to the price she was going to pay for helping her father? His impulse was to take her in his arms, tell her to accept any happiness that destiny had to offer, and defy the issue whatever it might be. Instead, he rang for a glass of cognac.
When Hera had sung a romance of old Siena Don Riccardo asked Mario about that “idealistic experiment,” the Social Dairy, and learned that it was no longer an experiment, but a prosperous object lesson for those willing to listen to the New Democracy. Mario told them a little of the life of the place, and Don Riccardo suggested that they all go and see for themselves.
“It would give me pleasure,” Mario assured him.
“I should like to go very much,” Hera said.