"Certainly. We will go another day to the Bernina. It is very far, and you are so tired."
He looked into her eyes and listened to every inflection of her voice; but he discovered nothing but naturalness, loyalty, and candour.
"Would you turn back, Miss Temple? Would you give up the outing?"
"Certainly, to let you rest to-day, and see you this evening charming and happy."
"For me, Lilian?"
"For you, dear," she replied, with a tremble of affection. All Lucio Sabini's heart broke in tenderness: all the gall of cynicism, all the poison of corruption was conquered and destroyed. She could not understand how base had been his thoughts and how he repented of having yielded to such base thoughts: Lilian could not have understood one of those infamous ideas. She noticed that he was bending over her to speak to her in his Italian tongue which she only half understood, which he adopted so spontaneously in moments of abandonment and sentimental dedication.
"Povero caro amor mio ... tanto caro."
"What are you saying?" she asked, a little anxiously.
"Beautiful things, things of love," he replied, enchanted, gazing at her.
"I don't want to lose them; say them in English, or French. I don't understand everything in Italian," she murmured with a gracious pout of disdain.