But, as
instinctively, she drew it back without touching him.
"Oh, here is Gaspare!" she said.
An immense, a really ridiculous sense of relief came to her as she saw
Gaspare's sturdy legs marching decisively towards them, his great eyes
examining the row of mirrors, the tables, the musicians, then settling
comfortably upon his Padrona. Over his arms he carried the cloaks, and
his hands grasped the two umbrellas. At that moment, if she had
translated her impulse into an action, Hermione would have given
Gaspare a good hug--just for being himself; for being always the same:
honest, watchful, perfectly fearless, perfectly natural, and perfectly
determined to take care of his Padrona and his Padroncina.
Afterwards she remembered that she had found in his presence relief
from something that had distressed her in her friend.
"Signora, the storm is coming. Look at the sea!" said Gaspare. He
pointed to the white line which was advancing in the blackness.
"I told the Signorina, and that Signore--"
A fierce flash of lightning zigzagged across the window-space, and
suddenly the sound of the wind was loud upon the sea, and mingled with
the growing murmur of waves.
Pages:
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292