"I am
sorry, Signorina, that your thoughts are sad. I should think they would
all be like sweet smiles." He said this with an indescribable delicacy
and gallantry, as if he half feared to speak to her, but his sympathy
must needs express itself.
Mae was, as we have seen, in a reckless, wild mood. She did not realize
what she was doing. She had just broken down all barriers in her mind,
was dead to her old life, and ready to plan for Heaven. And here before
her stood a wonderful, sympathizing, new friend, who spoke in a strange
tongue, lived in a strange land was as far removed from her old-time
people and society as an inhabitant of Saturn, or an angel. She accepted
him under her excitement, as she would have accepted them. No waiting
for an introduction, no formal getting-acquainted talk, no reserve. She
looked into the devoted, interested eyes above her, and said frankly:
"I was feeling all alone, and I hate Rome. I thought I would like to
play I was dead, and plan out a Heaven for myself.
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