She was looking at the boy as at a mystery which yet she could understand. And he looked at her simply, with a sort of fearless gentleness, and readiness to receive the kindness which he knew dwealt in her for him to take.
"Si, Signora, much better. The fever has gone. I am strong, you know."
She could not help saying it, and her eyes were tender just then.
"Si, Signora, I am very young."
His simple voice almost made her laugh, stirred in her that sweet humor which has its dwelling at the core of the heart.
And as she said it she remembered Vere's words that evening; "I think he has rather a hard time."
"At least, I hope you are happy, Ruffo," she added.
He looked at her. She was not sure which he meant, whether his assent was to her hope or to the fact of his happiness. She wondered which it was.