"Palazzo Cestaldini?" Rinaldo replied; "that is only a short way from here, but there will be difficulty in traversing the distance now without a boat. The Cardinal has surely kept the Signor Professore with him."
"I cannot be certain," Mariuccia persisted; "the padrone is—well, obstinate, and when he wants to come home he will come or try to—and then he will get into trouble. Do go out and look for him, signorino."
"But, Mariuccia, how can you?" Giannella protested indignantly. "The signorino can do nothing—and he may be drowned. Oh, pray do not go out," she exclaimed, clasping her hands and looking at Rinaldo imploringly. Something had evidently removed the padrone from the foreground of her thoughts.
Her anxiety for himself so filled her lover with delight that he felt inspired for any exploit. "Of course I will go," he cried; "nothing can drown me! I can swim like a fish; and it is only a pleasure to serve you, Sora Mariuccia. If a boat is needed I dare say I can find some of my friends to help me. Ah, what is that?"
A sound of laughter and of oars beating the water came up through the open window. Three heads were out in a moment, and then Rinaldo hailed Peppino and some other youths who, with many bumps and splashes, had just steered two shallow punts into the Via Santafede from the Ripetta. "Hi, boys!" he shouted, "wait for me, I must come with you. Round to the portone in the piazza, Peppino."
"Make haste then," was the reply; "we are out on duty. One of the bridges is gone, Ripetta is a sea, and the water is two feet deep in Piazza Navona. Hurry!"
Rinaldo dashed off and flew down the long flights of stairs. One boat went round to meet him, while the other continued on its way to Piazza Navona, the chief market-place of the city. Five minutes later a boat shot down again towards Ripetta, and Rinaldo nearly dropped a paddle in the effort to kiss his hand to the two heads still leaning out of the fourth-floor window, one grizzled and dark as fate, the other golden and lovely as hope's young dream.
When he was out of sight the women were silent for a little, then Giannella's face sank down on her old friend's shoulders, and Mariuccia put her arms round her and comforted her quite tenderly, for the poor child was shivering with fear for her lover. "Why did you send him?" she wailed; "he will surely be drowned." She had never seen a flood before except from the safe heights of the convent villa, and it seemed terrible that her Rinaldo, so dear and beautiful and young, should have to face its dangers.
"Hush, cocca mia," crooned the old woman, "nothing will happen to him. Those boys are as safe in the water as on land. I wish I had asked him to bring us some bread—there is not a scrap left—and that was the last of the wine."
"Take some of the padrone's then," said Giannella vindictively; "he has cost enough to-day, dragging that poor, brave boy out into such perils to look for him. He shall pay in bread and wine at least."