Her next question was also a surprise.
“Tony,” she inquired with startling suddenness, “why do you wear earrings?”
He reddened slightly.
“Because—because—der’s a girl I like ver’ moch, signorina; she sink earrings look nice. I wear zem for her.”
“Oh!—But why do you fasten them on with thread?”
“Because I no wear zem always. In Italia, yes; in Amerik’ no. When I marry dis girl and go back home, zen I do as I please, now I haf to do as she please.”
“H’m—” said Constance, ruminatingly. “Where does this girl live, Tony?”
“In Valedolmo, signorina.”
“What does she look like?”
“She look like—” His eyes searched the landscape and came back to her face. “Oh, ver’ beautiful, signorina. She have hair brown and gold, and eyes—yes, eyes! Zay are sometimes black, signorina, and sometimes gray. Her laugh, it sounds like the song of a nightingale.” He clasped his hands and rolled his eyes in a fine imitation of Gustavo. “She is beautiful, signorina, beautiful as ze angels in Paradise!”