By this time the
Count of San Miniato would be cold, and he, Ruggiero, would be
handcuffed and locked up in the little barrack of the gendarmes at
Sorrento, and Beatrice with her mother would be recovering from their
fright as best they could in the rooms at the hotel, and Teresina would
be crying, and Bastianello would be sitting at the door of his brother's
prison waiting to see what happened and ready to do what he could. Truly
all this would have been much better! But the moment had passed and he
must lie on his rock in silence, bound hand and foot by the necessity of
hiding himself, and giving his heart to be torn to pieces by San
Miniato's aristocratic fine gentleman's hands, and burned through and
through by Beatrice's gentle words.
"And so you really love me?" said San Miniato, sure at last of his
victory.
"Do you doubt it, after what I have done?" asked Beatrice in a very soft
voice. "Did I not leave my hand in yours when you took it so roughly
and--you know---"
"When I kissed it--but I want the words, too--only once, from your
beautiful lips---"
"The words---" Beatrice hesitated. They were too new to her lips, and a
soft blush rose in her cheeks, visible even in the moonlight.
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