“I shall be ver’ sorry for zat, signorina. I do not wish to make you angry, but I sink—perhaps you get over it.”
“You are behaving abominably today, Tony. I shall never stay alone with you again.”
“Signorina, look at zat moon up dere. Is it not ver’ bright? When I look at zat moon I have always beautiful toughts about how much I love Costantina.”
An interval followed during which neither spoke. The driver’s song was growing louder and the horses were galloping. The diligence suddenly rounded a curved cliff on two wheels. Constance lurched against him; he caught her and held her. Her lips were very near his; he kissed her softly.
She moved to the far end of the seat and faced him with flushed cheeks.
“I thought you were a gentleman!”
“I used to be, signorina; now I am only poor donkey-man.”
“I shall never speak to you again. You can climb as many mountains as you wish with my father, but you can’t have anything more to do with me.”
“Scusi, signorina. I—I did not mean to. It was just an accident, signorina.”
Constance turned her back and stared at the road.