“E bello, bellissimo,” he said, with great enthusiasm, and all the ladies agreed that it was bellissimo, lengthening the “s” and nodding their heads with a gesture of admiration.
“And you don’t say anything to me, bambino?” Laura inquired of Cæsar.
“I say you are all right.”
“And nothing more?”
“If you want me to pay you a compliment, I will tell you that you are pretty enough to make incest legitimate.” “What a barbarian!” murmured Laura, half laughing, half blushing.
“What has he been saying to you?” two or three people inquired.
Laura translated his words into Italian, and Carminatti found them admirable.
“Very appropriate! Very witty!” he exclaimed, laughing, and gave Cæsar a friendly slap on the shoulder.
The Marchesa Sciacca looked at Laura several times with reflective glances and a rancorous smile.
“The truth is that these Southern people are just children,” thought Cæsar, mockingly. “What an inveterate preoccupation they have in the beautiful.”