"That is the Signorina's name?" questioned Luigi, as he bent to help her cut the stems.
"Eve,—yes, they call me so."
"Certainly I had not thought it," he repeated to himself.
"Why, what did you suppose it was?" she heedlessly asked.
"Luigia!" said he. And his low, rapt tone was indescribably simple, sweet, and intense.
Eve did not know what the boy himself was called.
"I wish it were," said she. "That is a pleasant sound."
And rising with her armful, she went in and heaped the jar with honor, while Luigi, pleased and proud, lifted it to the level of the black-walnut bracket.
"Signora, behold what is beautiful!" said he, stepping back.
The Signora looked at the lilies, but Luigi looked at Eve.