"You see the mountain!"
He pointed to the end of the little street.
"Si, signore."
"I am thinking that I should like to go there now with you."
"Ma, signorino—the fiera!"
Her voice sounded plaintive with surprise and she glanced at her pea-green skirt.
"And this, signorino!"—she touched it carefully with her slim fingers. "How could I go in this?"
"When the fair is over, then, and you are in your every-day gown, Maddalena, I should like to carry you off to Etna."
"They say there are briganti there."
"Brigands—would you be afraid of them with me?"