Nino thought the clean steel in her hand looked as though it might be used for something besides cutting leaves, if the fancy took her.
"So at last you have honoured me with a visit, signore," she said, not desisting from her occupation.

Nino came to her, and she put out her hand.

He touched it, but could not bear to hold it, for it burned him.
"You used to honour my hand differently from that," she half whispered.

Nino sat himself down a little way from her, blushing slightly.

It was not at what she had said, but at the thought that he should ever have kissed her fingers.
"Signora," he replied, "there are customs, chivalrous and gentle in themselves, and worthy for all men to practise.