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Updated: June 11, 2025
Mae had never spoken to the veiled stranger, yet if Bero had turned upon her and asked, "Who is she?" she would have replied: "I do not know her name or where she lives, but I know she struggles, and despairs, and smiles over all. And I know her suffering comes from sorrow not from sin." But Mae did not say all this. She only looked at the veiled lady.
So Luigi went off the other way, and Bero, with a flushed face, followed Mae at a distance, and kept an eye on the stranger, flattering himself that he was quite unnoticed by those sharp, keen eyes. He was mistaken, Norman Mann had seen the officers before they saw him, had watched their footsteps, and had a pretty clear idea of the whole affair.
"O, no, not there. Anywhere else, but not there." "Why not?" asked Bero.
Her vestal lamp had dropped for the moment, and she seemed to be gazing far away. A fold of her heavy veil fell over her brow quite down to her great dark eyes. They were unshaded, yet they too, seemed clouded for the moment. "Her name is Lillia," said Mae, reassuringly to herself. "Her name is Lillia. I am sure she is like her name." Bero smiled. Just then Lisetta appeared.
She fell on her knees in an exalted, jubilate spirit. She was more like a Praise-the-Lord psalm of David than like a young girl of the nineteenth century. And yet close behind her, a little to the left, was Bero on his knees too, at his pater nosters. By and by the music began.
So while Othello fell about the stage, and ground out tremendous curses, Mae half shivered and glanced tremblingly toward Bero, and Bero gazed back protectingly and grandly.
She had been quite oblivious to the friends about this beautiful stranger, but once, as her eyes sought the Italian's, she saw her arise with a sudden flash of light on her face, and hold out a white hand. A head bent over it, and as it lifted itself slowly, Mae saw once more the well-known features of the Signor Bero. She looked down toward the street quickly and a sharp pain filled her heart.
It was music beyond description; those wonderful male voices, the chorus of young boys, and then suddenly, the organ and some one wild falsetto carrying the great Latin soul-laden words up higher. All this while Mae's head was bent low and her heart was a-praying. All this while Bero was on his knees also, but his eyes were on Mae. The music ceased; the prayers were ended.
Jerrold, I would like to introduce Signor your name?" she said, quite clearly, in Italian, turning to the officer. "Bero," he replied. "Signor Bero. He was very kind, and saved me from from a little beggar boy." "You must have been in peril, indeed," remarked Mrs. Jerrold, bowing distantly to Bero, and beckoning the coachman, as Mae sprang into the carriage, to drive on.
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