"Alone?" asked Bero, softly. "Surely, you wouldn't condemn a
mountaineer's yellow moustache, or a soldier's spurs and sword, if at
heart he was really a child of the sun also? May I share your day of
Heaven? It would be paradise for me, too." All this in the same soft,
deferential manner.

"Well, well," half laughed, half sighed Mae. "All this is a dream,
unless, indeed, I go home with Lisetta."

"Who is Lisetta?"

"Our padrona's cousin. She is here on a visit. She lives within a mile
of Sorrento, on the coast. She goes home at the end of Carnival. Oh,
how I do long for Carnival," continued Mae, frankly and confidentially.
"Don't you? I am like a child over it, I am trying already to persuade
Eric--that is my brother--to take me down on the Corso the last night,
for the Mocoletti. It would be much better fun than staying on our
balcony."

"Where is your balcony?" asked Bero, stroking his long moustaches.

"It is on the corner of Maria e Jesu, and if I ever see you coming by, I
shall be tempted to pepper your pretty uniform. How beautiful it is!"

"Yes," replied Bero, again gazing proudly down at his lithe figure, in
its well-fitting clothes, "but I would be willing to be showered with
confetti daily to see you. How shall I know you? What is to be the color
of your domino?" And he bent forward, hitting his spurs against the
paving stones, flashing his deep eyes, and half reaching out his hand,