“Hark! is that—a footfall above?”
“Mortar, Excellenza; sometimes it drops to the belfry-floor from the arch where the stonework was left undressed. I must have it seen to. As I was about to say: for one, I like this law forbidding duplicates. It evokes fine personalities. Yes, Excellenza, that strange, and—to you—uncertain smile, and those fore-looking eyes of Una, suit Bannadonna very well.”
“Hark!—sure we left no soul above?”
“No soul, Excellenza; rest assured, no soul—Again the mortar.”
“It fell not while we were there.”
“Ah, in your presence, it better knew its place, Excellenza,” blandly bowed Bannadonna.
“But, Una,” said the milder magistrate, “she seemed intently gazing on you; one would have almost sworn that she picked you out from among us three.”
“If she did, possibly, it might have been her finer apprehension, Excellenza.”
“How, Bannadonna? I do not understand you.”
“No consequence, no consequence, Excellenza—but the shifted wind is blowing through the slit. Suffer me to escort you on; and then, pardon, but the toiler must to his tools.”