"You are English?" she asked.
"Yes," he answered.
"We have not many English here," she said. "Germans, yes, and Italians, yes; but few, few English; two or three in the summer, but not every summer."
"English ladies?" he inquired.
"Sometimes," she answered cautiously.
"Do you remember a young English gentleman staying here with his wife seven years ago last June?" he asked.
Chiara paused. Very swiftly she calculated the chances of this Englishman, who could speak Italian easily enough to enter into conversation with anyone he came across, making more inquiries than from herself alone; and she came to the rapid conclusion that it was necessary to tell him everything that her neighbors knew. Other English foreigners had passed through Cortina, but no question had ever been asked about these young people before. She must tell her tale cautiously, and with reserve.
"Ah," she said, with a sigh of recollection, "the young English gentleman, Signore Martino! He was a fine, handsome gentleman; and the young lady was as pretty as a butterfly. Did they belong to you, Signore? Perhaps she was your daughter?"
"No," he answered, "the young lady was no daughter of mine."
"Is it not possible that the young signore was your son?" she said, looking doubtfully at Trevor, who did not seem to her grand enough to be the father of the rich young Englishman.