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"Am I?" She laughed again, then grew grave and looked away. Ruggiero's hand shook on the heavy tiller, and San Miniato, who supposed he was steering all the time, turned suddenly. "What is the matter?" he asked. "The rudder is draking, Excellency," answered Ruggiero. "And what does that mean?" asked Beatrice.
But she got no answer for her look, and he turned away and shoved the boat off the little stone pier. Bastianello was watching them both, and wishing himself in Ruggiero's place. But Ruggiero, as he believed, had loved the pretty Teresina first, and Ruggiero had the first right to win her if he could.
He said that when you slipped he occupied Ruggiero's attention until the cross bolt struck him." "That is what he did, my dear; but had he not occupied his attention I should have been a dead man.
Even the Marchesa vouchsafed the sailor a glance of indolent curiosity. Beatrice bent over to the Count and spoke in a low tone and in French. "We must not tease him any more. He is in love and very much in earnest." "So am I," answered San Miniato with a half successful attempt to seem emotional, which might have done well enough if it had not come after Ruggiero's heartfelt speech.
I believe he and my father thought that it was better to get me away as soon as possible, as Ruggiero's friends may put down the disgrace which has befallen him to my interference in his first attempt to carry off the girls." "Well, I think you are a lucky fellow anyhow, Francisco, and I hope that I may be soon doing something also.
But there is a marked difference between them in character, which shows itself in their faces. Ruggiero's eye is of a colder blue, is less mobile and of harder expression than Sebastiano's. His firm lips are generally tightly closed, and his square chin is bolder than his brother's.
But now, in the, calm moonlight and quite alone, she could hear Ruggiero's deep strong voice in her ears, and the few manly words he had uttered. There was not much in them in the way of eloquence a sailor's picturesque phrase she had heard something like it before. But there had been strength, and the power to do, and the will to act in every intonation of his speech.
You could not count upon him. And then they began to talk of love and Ruggiero's heart stood still, for that, at least, he could understand. "Love!" laughed Beatrice, repeating the word. "It always makes one laugh. Were you ever in love, mamma?" The Marchesa turned her head slowly, and lifted her sleepy eyes to look at her daughter, before she answered. "No," she said lazily. "I was never in love.
"Of course," answered the Marchesa opening her eyes and immediately shutting them again. Beatrice stepped aside and beckoned the two men to her. To Ruggiero's infinite surprise, he again felt the blood rushing to his face, and his heart began to pound his ribs like a fuller's hammer. He glanced at his brother and saw that he was perfectly self-possessed.
Ruggiero found out before long that his master for the summer was eccentric in his habits, judging from the Sorrentine point of view in regard to order and punctuality. Ruggiero's experience of fine gentlemen was limited indeed, but he could not believe that they all behaved like San Miniato, whose temper was apparently as changeable as his tastes.
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