"No, you won't," retorted Pappina, darting from Marta's side. "Oh, no, signor! If you should dare, I'd run away from you."
Guiseppe believed her when he saw her small clenched fists and the fire of indignation in her eyes. He knew she meant what she said.
"Hola, the sauce box! I'll break her in! I'll curb her spirit by degrees," he told himself, smiling as though he enjoyed the prospect. Bowing with great courtliness, he said aloud: "Ah, a very beautiful morning to you, Madamigella Pappina."
Pappina stood still a moment, watching him; then, with a shrug of her shoulders, she replied
"Ebbene [Well]! But you have not told me, signor—"
"Call me, Guiseppe," the man interrupted. "We're just old Guiseppe and Marta to every one."
"Well, then, old Guiseppe—"
"Guiseppe, without the old, if you please, signorina." He bowed mockingly, but he smiled as though the child's independence and fearlessness had charmed his surliness away.
"Signor Guiseppe, you have not told me at what time you will take me to the Toledo. I want the new dress you promised to buy me to–day."