There was not much eloquence about the courtship, as there had
been about San Miniato's, and there was not the fierce passion in
Bastianello's breast that was eating up his brother's heart. Yet
Beatrice, at least, would have changed places with Teresina if she
could, and San Miniato could have held his head higher if there had
ever been as much honesty in him as there was in Bastianello's every
thought and action.
For Bastianello was very loyal, though he thought badly enough of his
own doings, and when Beatrice called Teresina away a few minutes later,
he marched down the corridor with resolute steps, meaning not to lose a
moment in telling Ruggiero the whole truth, how he had honestly said the
best things he could for him and had asked Teresina to marry him, and
how he, Bastianello, had been betrayed into declaring his love, and had
found, to his amazement, that he was loved in return.
Ruggiero was sitting alone on one of the stone pillars on the little
pier, gazing at the sea, or rather, at a vessel far away towards Ischia,
running down the bay with every stitch of canvas set from her jibs to
her royals.
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