"I go to carry food to the man who is ill," recited Daphne, her
foot tapping the floor in impatience. She thrust her phrase-book
out toward Giacomo, but he shook his head again, being one whose
knowledge was superior to the mere accomplishment of reading.

Daphne's short skirt and red felt hat disappeared in the kitchen.
Presently she returned with Assunta and a basket. The two
understood her immediate purpose now, however bewildering the
ultimate. They packed the basket with a right good will: red
wine in a transparent flask, yellow soup in a shallow pitcher,
bread, crisp lettuce, and thin slices of beef. Then Daphne gave
the basket to Giacomo and beckoned him to come after her.

He climbed behind his lady up the narrow path by the waterfalls
through damp grass and trickling fern, then up the great green
slope toward the clump of oak trees. By the low gray tent they
halted, and Giacomo's expression changed. He had not understood
the Signorina, he said hastily, and he begged the Signorina's
pardon. She was good, she was gracious.

"Speak to him," said Daphne impatiently; "go in, give him food."

He lifted the loose covering that served as the side of a tent,
and found the sick man. Giacomo chattered, his brown fingers
moving swiftly by way of punctuation. The sick man chattered,
too, his fingers moving more slowly in their weakness. Giacomo
seemed excited by what he heard, and Daphne, watching from a
little distance, wondered if fever must not increase under the
influence of tongues that wagged so fast. She strolled away,