She darted a glance of contempt at Nanina, threw down
the modeling tool, and turned indignantly to the young sculptor,
who was affecting to be hard at work again.
"Signor Fabio," she said, "the next time you forget what is due
to your rank and yourself, warn me of it, if you please,
beforehand, and I will take care to leave the room." While
speaking the last words, she passed through the doorway. Father
Rocco, bending abstractedly over his plaster mixture, heard her
continue to herself in a whisper, as she went by him, "If I have
any influence at all with my father, that impudent beggar-girl
shall be forbidden the studio."
"Jealousy on the other side," thought the priest. "Something must
be done at once, or this will end badly."
He looked again at the glass, and saw Fabio, after an instant of
hesitation, beckon to Nanina to approach him. She left her seat,
advanced half-way to his, then stopped. He stepped forward to
meet her, and, taking her by the hand, whispered earnestly in her
ear. When he had done, before dropping her hand, he touched her
cheek with his lips, and then helped her on with the little white
mantilla which covered her head and shoulders out-of-doors. The
girl trembled violently, and drew the linen close to her face as
Fabio walked into the larger studio, and, addressing Father
Rocco, said:
"I am afraid I am more idle, or more stupid, than ever to-day.
Pages:
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415