III


Old Marietta--the bravest of small figures, in her neat
black-and-white peasant dress, with her silver ornaments,
and her red silk coif and apron--came for the coffee things.

But at sight of Peter, she abruptly halted. She struck an
attitude of alarm. She fixed him with her fiery little black
eyes.

"The Signorino is not well!" she cried, in the tones of one
launching a denunciation.

Peter roused himself.

"Er--yes--I 'm pretty well, thank you," he reassured her. "I
--I 'm only dying," he added, sweetly, after an instant's
hesitation.

"Dying--!" echoed Marietta, wild, aghast.

"Ah, but you can save my life--you come in the very nick of
time," he said. "I'm dying of curiosity--dying to know
something that you can tell me."

Her stare dissolved, her attitude relaxed. She smiled--relief,