She pondered briefly before she answered, “Ah, so—yes, I remember. To others, I meant, one does not give asphodel, but roses. That is polite of you; it seems your opinion of me is improved.”
Her hand stretched out to receive the red flowers, and, handing them to her, he rejoined, “I believed at first that you could be here only during the noon hour, but it has become probable to me that you also, at some other time—that makes me very happy——”
“Why does it make you happy?”
Her face expressed lack of comprehension—only about her lips there passed a slight, hardly noticeable quiver. Confused, he offered, “It is beautiful to be alive; it has never seemed so much so to me before—I wished to ask you?” He searched in his breast pocket and added, as he drew out the object, “Has this brooch ever belonged to you?”
She leaned forward a little toward it, but shook her head. “No, I can’t remember. Chronologically it would, of course, not be impossible, for it probably did not exist until this year. Did you find it in the sun perhaps? The beautiful green patina surely seems familiar to me, as if I had already seen it.”
Involuntarily he repeated, “In the sun?—why in the sun?”
“‘Sole’ it is called here. It brings to light many things of that sort. Was the brooch said to have belonged to a young girl who is said to have perished, I believe, in the vicinity of the Forum, with a companion?”
“Yes, who held his arm about her——”
“Ah, so——”
The two little words apparently lay upon Gradiva’s tongue as a favourite interjection, and she stopped after it for a moment before she added, “Did you think that on that account I might have worn it? and would that have made you a little—how did you say it before?—unhappy?”