‘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 grey. 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!’
‘There seem to be a good many people beautiful as the angels in Paradise.’
‘She is most beautiful of all.’
‘What is her name?’
‘Costantina.’ He said it softly, his eyes on her face.
‘Ah,’ Constance rose and turned away with a shrug. Her manner suggested that he had gone too far.