The Marchesa
actually took the trouble to step on board instead of trusting herself
to the strong arms of Ruggiero. Beatrice followed her. As she set her
foot on the gunwale Ruggiero held up his hand towards her to help her.
It was not the first time this duty had fallen to him, but she was more
radiantly fresh to-day than he had ever seen her before, and the spasm
that seemed to crush his heart for a moment was more violent than usual.
His strong joints trembled at her light touch and his face turned white.
She felt that his hand shook and she glanced at him when she stood in
the boat.
"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.
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.
Pages:
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103