"Little daughter," said he, sharply, and he threw away her hand, "if you ask me any more questions about your mother you will make my heart bleed. Do you not understand so
simple a thing as that, you who claim to be a woman? You have been stabbing me. Come, come: allons!—let us talk of something else—of your friend who wishes to be more than a friend—you wicked little one, who have no sweetheart! And what are those fools of English about? What? But tell me—is he one of us?"
"Oh yes, signore," said she; and instead of showing any shamefacedness, she turned toward him and regarded him with the fearless, soft dark eyes. "How could you think otherwise? And he is so brave and noble: he is not afraid of sacrificing those things that the English put such store by—"
"English?" said Calabressa.
"Yes," said Natalie; and now she looked down.
"And what does your heart say?"
She spoke very gently in reply.
"Signor, I have not answered him yet; you cannot expect me to answer you."
"A la bonne heure! Little traitress, to say she has no sweethearts! Happy Englishman! What, then, do I distress you? It is not so simple! It is an embarrassment, this proposal that he has made to you! But I will not trouble you further with my questions, little daughter: how can an old jail-bird like myself understand a young linnet-thing that has always been flying and fluttering about in happiness and the free air? Enfin, let us go! I perceive your little maid is tired of standing and staring; perhaps it is time for you to go back."
She rose, and the three of them slowly proceeded along the gravelled path.