“Not the other morning. But have we ever met in Naples?”
“I have seen you pass by sometimes at the Mergellina, Signore.”
“That must be it then!” Artois thought, “I have seen you there without consciously noticing you.”
“You live there?” he said.
“Si, Signore; I live with my mamma and my Patrigno.”
“Your Patrigno,” Artois said, merely to continue the conversation. “Then your father is dead?”
“Si, Signore, my Babbo is dead.”
They were on the plateau now, before the house.
“If you will wait a moment, Ruffo, I will fetch the cigarettes,” said Hermione.
“Let me go, Madre,” said Vere, eagerly.