on his face. A tortured Christ hung there, casting the shadow of pain
upon the passers-by. The expression in the brown eyes of the heathen
god haunted her all the way down the hill, and throughout the day:
they seemed to understand, and yet be glad.

CHAPTER X

It was nine o'clock as the Signorina descended the stairs. Through the
open doorway morning met her, crisp and cool, with sunshine touching
grass and green branch, still wet with dew. The very footfalls of the
girl on the shallow marble steps were eager and expectant, and her face
was gayer than those of the nymphs in the frescoes on the wall. At the
bottom of the stairs, Giacomo met her, his face wreathed in smiles.

"Bertuccio has returned," he announced.

"Si, si, Signorina," came the voice of Assunta, who was pushing her way
through the dining-room door behind Giacomo. She had on her magenta
Sunday shawl, and the color of her wrinkled cheeks almost matched it.

"What is Bertuccio?" asked the girl. "A kitten?"

"A kitten!" gasped Assunta.

"Corpo di Bacco!" swore Giacomo.

Then the two brown ones devoted mind and body to explanation. Giacomo
gesticulated and waved the napkin he had in his hand; Assunta shook her
black silk apron: and they both spoke at once.

"Il mio Bertuccio! It is my little son, Signorina, and my only, and
the Signorina has never seen his like. When he was three years old he
wore clothing for five years, and now he is six inches taller than his
father."

This and much more said Assunta, and she said it as one word. Giacomo,
keeping pace and giving syllable for syllable, remarked:--

"It is our Bertuccio who has been working in a tunnel in the Italian
Alps, and has come home for rest. He is engineer, Signorina, and has
genius. And before he became this he was guide here in the mountains,
and he knows every path, every stone, every tree."

"What?" asked Daphne feebly.

Then, in a multitude of words that darkened knowledge, they said it all
over again. Bertuccio, the light of their eyes, the sole hope of their
old age, had come home. He could be the Signorina's guide among the
hills, being very strong, very trusty, molto forte, molto fedele.

"Oh, I know!" cried the Signorina, with a sudden light in her face.
"Bertuccio is your son!"

"Si, si, si, Signorina!" exclaimed Giacomo and Assunta together,
ushering her into the dining-room.

"It is the blessed saints who have managed it," added Assunta devoutly.
"