"I don't understand."
"Your name?"
"No, Señor."
"Your name? Have you no sense—stupid!" The Captain's patience was fast giving way.
Now to call an Italian stupid is the worst possible insult, and Lucia's cheeks flushed hotly. She was very angry, and she determined not to reply now at any cost. She shook her head therefore, and a very stubborn and unpromising light came into her brown eyes.
The Captain looked at her in disgust.
"Well, I suppose your name does not matter anyway," he said gruffly. "Where do you live?"
Another shake of the small black head, and an expressive shrug.
"You live in Cellino, so why not say so? Come, no more sulking. If you won't answer me of your own free will, you must be made to answer."
"No, Señor," Lucia smiled provokingly.