then they have to live in the forests of Africa, where it is always
dark, and all the men and women are negro savages, and all the other
animals (except the mosquitos and the snakes) are lions and tigers.
Besides, if Annunziata were to turn into a monkey, she couldn't have the
sugared chestnuts that somebody or other has brought her from Roccadoro.
On the chest of drawers in my room there has mysteriously appeared a box
of sugared chestnuts. I thought they were for her, but they're not,
unless she will promise never to turn into a monkey."

Annunziata's eyes had clouded.

"Of course I won't turn into a monkey," she said, in accents at once of
disillusion and disdain. "I did not know there was any such danger. I
should hate to be a monkey." Then her eyes brightened again. "May I go
and get them now?" she asked, wistful and impatient.

"Yes," said John; "be off with you." And she went running lightly up the
hill.

He turned to Maria Dolores. Her face (clear-cut, with its dark hair,
against the red background of her sunshade) was white and drawn with
pain. But she smiled, rather wanly, as her gaze met his, and said, in a
weak voice, "Oh, I am so glad you came. I can't tell you how she was
frightening me." And all at once her eyes filled with tears.

I needn't say whether John was moved, whether it was his impulse to take
her in his arms and dry her tears with kisses. He did actually, on that
impulse, give a perceptible start towards her, but then he restrained
himself. "The child ought to be whipped," he broke out angrily. "You
must not take her prattle so seriously."