She did not reply, but he read the answer in her face.
He bent his knee to her, and sank his head so low that he could kiss the hem of her dress. “You are good; you are very good. I shall never forget it. If I were not who I am, how I would serve you!”
“You shall serve me,” she said. And she was so moved by his misfortunes that she felt no more fear of his injuring her.
He sprang up. “I will tell you something. You cannot go across the floor without stumbling if I look at you.”
“Oh!” she said.
“Try!”
And she tried. She was very much frightened, and had never felt so unsteady as when she took her first step. Then she thought: “If it were for Gaetano’s sake, I could do it.” And then it was easy.
She walked to and fro on the church floor. “Shall I do it again?” He nodded.
As she was walking, the thought flashed through her brain: “The Christchild has taken the curse from him, because he is to help me.” She turned suddenly and came back to him.
“Do you know, do you know? you are no jettatore!”