“Good-evening, Signora.”
She was looking at the boy as at a mystery which yet she could understand. And he looked at her simply, with a sort of fearless gentleness, and readiness to receive the kindness which he knew dwealt in her for him to take.
“Are you better?”
“Si, Signora, much better. The fever has gone. I am strong, you know.”
“You are so young.”
She could not help saying it, and her eyes were tender just then.
“Si, Signora, I am very young.”
His simple voice almost made her laugh, stirred in her that sweet humor which has its dwelling at the core of the heart.
“Young and happy,” she said.
And as she said it she remembered Vere’s words that evening; “I think he has rather a hard time.”