'Sh! You promised to say nothing about that!' she murmured, blushing like a little girl.
'Sometimes it is too much for me. Let me tell you again, Angelica, you who are sweetness itself. I am so fond of you, so fond of you that it is killing me! I am all alone, I have no one in the whole world, I love no one else, can love no one else; I am very fond of you, Angelica.'
And, observing that he was flushed with emotion, she said nothing more, but very lightly passed her hand over his face, as though it had been the wing of a bird or a leaf stirred by the breeze. He stopped, liked a shamefaced boy, brightening up a little, put out of countenance a little, feeling his face refreshed by the caress.
She smiled with a tinge of playful malice before asking him the following question:
'Is it true that you were in love with Elena Fiammanti?'
'No; I never was.'
'Then she was in love with you?'
'I do not think she was.'
'You never lie, do you?'
'No; never.'