"I had not met you then, Signorina."
"He was quite serious, nevertheless, and predicted that marriage would end our friendship, arguing that supreme happiness is but another term for supreme selfishness."
"At least I did not question the certainty of your happiness."
The girl spoke up gravely:
"I don't agree with you, Signor Blake. I should hate to think it will make us selfish. It seems to me that such—love as we share will make us very good and sweet and generous."
When she spoke of love she hesitated and lowered her eyes until the quivering lashes swept her cheeks, but no flush of embarrassment followed. Norvin realized that with all her reserve she could not blush, had probably never blushed.
"You shouldn't place the least dependence on the words of a man's best friend under such conditions," he told her, "for he covers his chagrin at losing a comrade by a display of pessimism which he doesn't really feel."
Norvin suddenly wished the Countess would not allow her glance to linger upon him so long and searchingly. It filled him with a most disturbing self-consciousness. He was relieved when the Donna Teresa engaged him in conversation and the lovers were occupied with each other. It was some time later that the Countess addressed her aunt excitedly:
"Listen! What do you think of this, zia mia? The authorities will not admit poor Paolo to bail, and he is still in prison."
"Poor fellow!" cried the Donna Teresa. "It is La Mafia."