"Well, but I knocked you down."
"Did you do it because of that; or because—because you like me?"
Pilade grunted. "Suppose I did?"
Silvestro sighed, and leaned his head on his friend's shoulder.
"O wondrous night!" said he, whispering. "Look, the stars are like moons."
It was certainly a wonderful night—a night of enormous silence, of great steady stars, of gold-dusted air, of a sky like a purple dome encrusted with jewelled lights. The two boys sat together, blinking at so much speechless glory. Castracane's arm was round his fellow's shoulder; that fellow's lips parted, and his breath came soft and eager—yet too quickly for ease. It was certainly a night of wonder.
Castracane's arm slipped down to Silvestro's waist; Silvestro sighed, and snuggled into the haven it made.
"O holy night!" said he. "Now might miracles happen, and we be by."
"Ah," said Castracane, "the miracle of choice would be an angel with a basket of bread and cheese—or a beautiful maiden to come and lie in one's arms."