“Mysterious? Gaspare?”
“Si, Signora, he did. And he looked almost white, too, but not like my mamma. And then my mamma said, ‘Gaspare!’ just like that, Signora, and put out her hand—so. And Don Gaspare’s face got red and hot. And then for a minute they spoke together, Signora, and I could not hear what they said. For Don Gaspare stood with his back so that I should not hear. And then the balloon went sideways and the people ran, and I did not see Don Gaspare any more. And after that, Signora, my mamma was crying all the time. And she would not tell me anything. I only heard her say: ‘To think of its being Gaspare! To think of its being Gaspare on the island!’ And when we got home she said to me, ‘Ruffo,’ she said, ‘has Gaspare ever said you were like somebody?’ What is it, Signora?”
“Nothing, Ruffo. Go on.”
“But—”
“Go on, Ruffo.”
“‘Has Gaspare ever said you were like somebody?’ my mamma said.”
“And you—what did you say?”
“I said, ‘No,’ Signora. And that is true. Don Gaspare has never said I was like somebody.”
The boy had evidently finished what he had to say. He stood quietly by Hermione, waiting for her to speak in her turn. For a moment she said nothing. Then she put her hand on Ruffo’s arm.
“Whom do you think your mother meant when she said ‘somebody,’ Ruffo?”