"
"And give up the mocoletti! Why, Eric! I shouldn't have known how to
take such an offer. No, no, trot off and array yourself, and you may
come back and say good-bye."
"I must say good-bye now, dear, for I dine at the Costanzi with the
girls and their aunt."
"Now, just now, Eric?"
"Why yes, Mae. You are getting blue again, aren't you? Getting ready for
Ash Wednesday to-morrow?"
"Oh, no, no, dear. Kiss me, Eric, again. You're a good, dear boy. No; I
didn't cry that drop at all. Good-bye; and to-morrow is Ash Wednesday.
But we don't sorrow or fast in Paradise, I suppose."
CHAPTER XI.
The Corso was all ablaze. The whole world was there. Under a balcony
stood a party of peasants. Of this group, two were somewhat aside. One
of these was tall, dark, a fair type of Southern Italian; the other
small, agile and graceful, dressed in a fresh contadina costume, with
her brown hair braided down her shoulders. She seemed excited, and as
the crowd pressed nearer she would draw back half-fearfully.
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