Modesta had now discovered them, and paused, while the women who were with her gave such a general greeting to "lordships" that it seemed to Gray that he beheld several yards of white teeth, surmounted by rows of dark eyes whose depths held a sweetness which no Northern orbs could ever contain. "I accompany for a short distance my friend Paola," explained the waitress, "Paola being tired, and having already the baby to carry. This, the one I have, is her Angelo--as the master can perceive for himself, an angel indeed--though his little ankles are not strong. But--what would they have? That requires patience; it will improve. The masters would like without doubt to see also the baby? A miracle of beauty!" And giving the older child to one of her companions, she took the swaddled infant from its mother, and brought it to Dennison and his friend, a smile of pure enthusiasm irradiating her face. "His cheeks--do the masters behold them? And his eyes like stars? Lordships can note the quality of his arms." Gray lightly pinched the dimpled roll of fat extended towards him. "Oui, oui. Grandeena!" he said, emphatically. Modesta appeared to be charmed with this attention; she thanked him warmly. Then she carried the baby back to its mother, kissing it before she gave it up, and, taking the other child, led the way down the hill, the whole party making fresh obeisances before they turned away. "What frank, pleasant faces they all have!" said Gray. "Very frank. They never changed a muscle when, as a token of your admiration of the baby, you told them that it was hailing." "Hailing? What are you talking about? I said the baby's arm was big." "Grandina happens to mean 'it is hailing'; that's all." "It couldn't; it wouldn't be such a fool! Are we going to stay here all night? It's awfully dusty." For the open space outside of the gate was now filled with loungers, and the café of Garibaldi was crowded both inside and out; the two Americans left their bench and strolled down the hill. When they reached the bridge they stopped to watch the water. As they did so they heard music; down the gorge beside the stream came a party of girls, two and two, with linked arms; they were singing all together something slow and sweet, and as they passed under the bridge each gave a glance upward towards the two gentlemen who were leaning over the parapet to look at them. "What are they singing?" asked Gray. "A hymn to the Virgin, with an endless number of verses; stay here a month, and you'll hear it so often that you'll sing it in your sleep." "That girl who was last did not look like an Italian," Gray went on, as the musical band disappeared round a bend.