Il balen del suo sorriso
d’una stella vince al raggio.
Then he began to sing in a rich, baritone voice, and as he reached the end of the romanza, he imparted an expression of profound melancholy to it:
Ah l’amor, l’amore ond’ ardo
le favelli in mio favor
sperda il sole d’un suo sguardo
la tempesta, ah!... la tempesta del mio cor.
And he repeated the phrase with an accent that was more and more expressive. Any one listening to him would have said that truly, la tempesta was playing havoc with his heart.
“Very good! Very good!” cried Rafaela. Remedios applauded gleefully.
“It’s going to rain,” announced the old woman servant as she glanced at the sky.
“That’s because I did so badly,” said Quentin with a smile.
They went to the window. The sky was darkening; it was beginning to rain. The heavy drops fell in oblique lines and glistened on the green leaves of the orange trees, and on the moss-covered tiles; the continuous splashing of the drops in the pool, made it look as if it were boiling....
The rain soon ceased, the sun came out, and the whole garden glowed like a red-hot coal; the oranges shone among the damp foliage; the green hedge-mustard spotted the glittering grey roof tiles with its gay note; water poured from the dark, ancient belfry of a near-by tower; and several white gardens smiled upon the mountain side.
“That is a regular gipsy sun,” lisped Remedios, who at times had an exaggerated Andalusian pronunciation.