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Probably her vehemence was to him an every-day
affair. She laid one hand on his arm and bent forward. He slightly
shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. She kept her hand on his
arm, went on talking passionately, and suddenly began to weep. Tears
rushed out of her eyes. Then the boy took her hand gently, stroked it,
and began to speak to her, always keeping her hand in his. The woman,
with a despairing movement, laid her face down on the table, with her
forehead touching the wood. Then she lifted it up. The paroxysm seemed
to have passed. She took out a handkerchief from inside the bodice of
her dress and dried her eyes. Ruffo struck the table with his glass.
An attendant came. He paid the bill, and the woman and he got up to
go. As they did so Ruffo presented for a moment his full face to
Artois, and Artois swiftly compared it with the face of the woman, and
felt sure that they were mother and son.
Artois moved on towards the hill of Posilipo, but after taking a few
steps turned to look back.


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