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Updated: June 24, 2025
As Ruggiero came out of the tunnel and reached the platform of rock from which the last part of the descent goes down to the sea in the open air, he stood still a moment and expressed his determination in a low tone. There was no one near to hear him. "Whatever she asks," he said. "Truly it is of great importance what becomes of me! If it is a little thing it costs nothing.
Ruggiero, little capable, by natural gifts or by experience, of dealing with such questions, found himself face to face with a great problem of the human self, and he knew at once that he could never solve it, try as he might.
But she needed none, as it seemed to her. It was enough that he should have acted his comedy last night and got by a stratagem what he could never have by any other means. Ruggiero returned after two or three minutes. "Well?" inquired Beatrice. "He sent one at nine o'clock this morning, Excellency." For one minute their eyes met. Ruggiero's were fierce, bright and clear.
And now in mid-June they are at home again, since Sorrento is their home now, and they are inclined to take a turn with the pleasure boats by way of a change and engage themselves for the summer, Ruggiero with a gentleman from the north of Italy known as the Conte di San Miniato, and Sebastiano with a widowed Sicilian lady and her daughter, the Marchesa di Mola and the Signorina Beatrice Granmichele, generally, if incorrectly, spoken of as Donna Beatrice.
"Who knows? They make one think of so many things, Excellency. One would tire of camelias, but one would never be tired of violets. They have something who knows?" "That is it, Ruggiero," said San Miniato, delighted with the result of his experiment. "And charm is the same thing in a woman. One is never tired of it, and yet it is not honesty, nor beauty, nor economy."
"You cannot hurt the mother now," said Ruggiero. "Hit him as I do, Bastianello!" And the four bony boyish fists fell in a storm of savage blows upon Don Pietro Casale's leathern face and eyes and head and thin grey lips. "That is for the mother," said Ruggiero. "Another fifty a-piece for ourselves."
Ruggiero and Sebastiano stood motionless, only their eyes turning from side to side and examining everything with the curiosity habitual in seamen. Presently Beatrice entered, looked at them both for a moment and then went up to her mother. "It is for the boat, mamma," she said. "Do you wish me to arrange about it?"
It is easy when a woman is sitting apart and a man brings her good food and wine you could have spoken a word into her ear." Ruggiero was silent, but he slowly nodded twice, then shook his head. "You do not say anything," continued Bastianello, "and you do wrong. What I tell you is true, and you cannot deny it. After all, we are men and they are women. Are they to speak first?"
Meanwhile the human nature on which Ruggiero counted so naturally and confidently was going through a rather strange phase of development in the upper regions where the Marchesa's terrace was situated. Beatrice walked slowly back under the trees. Ruggiero's quaint talk had amused her and had momentarily diverted the current of her thoughts.
"Are you ill, Ruggiero?" she asked, in a kindly tone. "No, Excellency," he answered in a low voice that was far from steady, while the shadow of a despairing smile flickered over his features. He put up his hand to help Teresina, the maid. She pressed it hard as she jumped down, and smiled with much intention at the handsome sailor.
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