to my mother to offer some to the Signorina. Well, the door
opened without any knocking, and a stranger stood there: he was
young, and beyond humanity, beautiful."

Bertuccio paused; the girl felt slow red climbing to her cheek.
She dared not look behind, yet she would have given half her
possessions to see the expression of his face. Leaning forward,
she played with the red tassels at San Pietro's ears.

"Go on! go on!" she commanded. "Avanti!"

San Pietro thought that the words were meant for him, and indeed
they were more appropriate here for donkey than for man.

"He sat with them and shared their polenta," continued Bertuccio,
walking more rapidly to keep up with San Pietro's quickened step.
"And he made them all afraid. It was not that he had any
terrible look, or that he did anything strange, only, each
glance, each motion told that he was more than merely man. And
he looked at the maiden with eyes of love, and she at him," said
Bertuccio, lacking art to keep his hearer in suspense. "She too
was beautiful, as beautiful, perhaps, as the Signorina,"
continued the story-teller.

Daphne looked at him sharply: did he mean any further
comparison? There were hot waves now on neck and face, and her
heart was beating furiously.

"He came often, and he always met the maiden by the hollow tree:
it was large enough for them to stand inside. And her father and