"Bice is really padrona. But the contadino, who is the tenant, manages it; you know that is the custom here. He pays us half of everything, the live stock and the crops." So long a speech was almost too great an effort for Kitty, and she jumped up and took refuge with the children, who were sitting in a heap munching figs, and occasionally trying to thrust one down Cartouche's throat. A boy in the tree over their heads tossed the cool green fruit into their laps. "Pippa has only eaten twelve," said little Gigi, planting his white teeth in the rind. "Only twelve! That is because she is a girl, and so little!" Pippa plodded on sturdily, paying no attention to the insult. The broad leaves cast broken masses of shade upon the long grass, the clear whiteness of the western sky was changing to amber. "How well you speak our language!" said the little contessa graciously to Ibbetson. "Believe me, it is a compliment we all appreciate. Now when Bice's other English friend is here, the Signore--Trent--how do you call him? we are obliged to fall back upon French. Eh, Bice, it is so, is it not?" "Yes," said the girl shortly. She was grave again, as Ibbetson remarked. The changes in her manner and in her face were so rapid that he found himself watching and wondering. He had never met with anyone who showed so openly whatever passed across her mind. "Is he coming again soon? He is your relative, is he not?" persisted the contessa. "He is Kitty's cousin." It was the first time she had spoken as if Kitty and she were not absolutely one in their possessions, and her tone had an unwilling ring about it. Perhaps it piqued her friend's curiosity, for she threw back her head, and said in a low amused voice-- "You are mysterious, _carina_. Is the subject too sacred to be discussed?" The girl's eyes flashed, she sprang up angry and impatient. "Are we going to stay here all our lives?" she cried with a sharpness which cut poor Giovanni to the heart. If he had heard what had just passed he might have been better satisfied, but he had been looking another way, choosing some of the best figs for the beautiful Eve who had praised his little Paradise, and he heard nothing until there came this sharp, scornful speech, which made a desert of it all. Yet how lovely she looked standing there, her head thrown up, the exquisite outline of her profile clear against the golden sky! And when she turned, and saw the young fellow's frightened face, her own melted, and a sudden smile dimpled her cheeks. "Was I so rude, Giovanni?" she said gently, "I did not mean it, really. It has all been charming, delightful, only now it is time to go. Nina knows it, but she is lazy. I must be the one to tell you what is prudent. Come, Kitty, come, children, the reign of figs is over, but we will carry back a basket-full for mamma. She always says there are none like those which grow up here on Giovanni's mountain."