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"Good-night, Ruffo."
"Good-night, Signora."
"Perhaps we shall see you to-morrow."
She was just going to turn away when Ruffo bent down to kiss her hand.
Since she had given charity to his mother it was evident that his
feeling for her had changed. The Sicilian in him rose up to honor her
like a Padrona.
"Signora," he said, letting go her hand. "Benedicite e buon riposo."
He was being a little whimsical, was showing to her and to Gaspare
that he knew how to be a Sicilian. And now he looked from one to the
other to see how they took his salutation; looked gently,
confidentially, with a smile dawning in his eyes under the deference
and the boyish affection and gratitude.
And again it seemed to Hermione for a moment that Maurice stood there
before her in the night. Her impulse was to catch Gaspare's arm, to
say to him, "Look! Don't you see your Padrone?"
She did not do this, but she did turn impulsively to Gaspare. And as
she turned she saw tears start into his eyes.


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