I was married one Natività, a long, long while ago, and nobody knew. O Santa Madonna! I didn't mean to tell you that!"
Tessa set up her shoulders and bit her lip, looking at Baldassarre as if this betrayal of secrets must have an exciting effect on him too. But he seemed not to care much; and perhaps that was in the nature of strangers.
"Yes," she said, carrying on her thought aloud, "you are a stranger; you don't live anywhere or know anybody, do you?"
"No," said Baldassarre, also thinking aloud, rather than consciously answering, "I only know one man."
"His name is not Nofri, is it?" said Tessa, anxiously.
"No," said Baldassarre, noticing her look of fear. "Is that your husband's name?"
That mistaken supposition was very amusing to Tessa. She laughed and clapped her hands as she said,—
"No, indeed! But I must not tell you anything about my husband. You would never think what he is—not at all like Nofri!"
She laughed again at the delightful incongruity between the name of Nofri—which was not separable from the idea of the cross-grained stepfather—and the idea of her husband.
"But I don't see him very often," she went on, more gravely. "And sometimes I pray to the Holy
