But Nino started as though he had been stung, and his dark face grew pale.
A girl could not have seemed more hurt at a strange man's touch.
"Signora!" he cried, springing to his feet.

The baroness, who is as dark as he, blushed almost red, partly because she was angry, and partly because she was ashamed.
"What a boy you are!" she said, carelessly enough, and turned away to the window, pushing back one heavy curtain with her delicate hand, as if she would look out.
"Pardon me, signora, I am not a boy," said Nino, speaking to the back of her head as he stood behind her.

"It is time we understood each other better.

I love like a man and I hate like a man.

I love someone very, much." "Fortunate contessina!" laughed the baroness, mockingly, without turning round.
"It does not concern you, signora, to know whom I love, nor, if you know, to speak of her.