He smiled at her with approving eyes. To him she appeared like one transformed, thanks, perhaps, to the soft folds of her white gown. In his good-natured after-dinner mood, the beatitude of repletion infused a certain tenderness into his voice.
“My name is Andrea,” he murmured.
“I know that,” was the curt reply.
“Call me Andrea. You call Caterina by her name. Caterina and I are one.”
“Not to me.”
“I see. But as Caterina is so very much your friend, you might admit me into the bond. Do you forbid me to become your friend?”
“Perhaps there is no such thing as friendship.”
“Yes, there is such a thing. Don’t be so pessimistic. Senta, cara Signorina, let me whisper a word in your ear....”
She bent forward until her cheek almost touched his lips. Then he said:
“There are in this house two people who care for you. Pray believe....”