But the pair came toward me, and I met them with a light heart.
"Nino," said Hedwig, "we have not been nearly grateful enough to Signor Grandi for all he has done.

I have been very selfish," she said, penitently turning to me.
"Ah no, signora," I replied,--for she was married now, and no longer "signorina,"-- "it is never selfish of such as you to let an old man do you service.

You have made me very happy." And then I embraced Nino, and Hedwig gave me her hand, which I kissed in the old fashion.
"And so this is your old home, Nino ?" said Hedwig presently, looking about her, and touching the things in the room, as a woman will when she makes acquaintance with a place she has often heard of.

"What a dear room it is! I wish we could live here!" How very soon a woman learns that "we" that means so much! It is never forgotten, even when the love that bred it is dead and cold.
"Yes," I said, for Nino seemed so enraptured, as he watched her, that he could not speak.

"And there is the old piano, with the end on the boxes because it has no leg, as I dare say Nino has often told you." "Nino said it was a very good piano," said she.
"And indeed it is," he said, with enthusiasm.