Baba
and Benito were now such friends they liked to pace closely side
by side; and Baba and Benito were by no means without instinctive
recognitions of the sympathy between their riders. Already Benito
knew Ramona's voice, and answered it with pleasure; and Baba
had long ago learned to stop when his mistress laid her hand on
Alessandro's shoulder. He stopped now, and it was long minutes
before he had the signal to go on again.
"Majella! Majella!" cried Alessandro, as, grasping both her hands
in his, he held them to his cheeks, to his neck, to his mouth, "if the
saints would ask Alessandro to be a martyr for Majella's sake, like
those she was telling of, then she would know if Alessandro loved
her! But what can Alessandro do now? What, oh, what? Majella
gives all; Alessandro gives nothing!" and he bowed his forehead on
her hands, before he put them back gently on Baba's neck.
Tears filled Ramona's eyes. How should she win this saddened
man, this distrusting lover, to the joy which was his desert?
"Alessandro can do one thing," she said, insensibly falling into his
mode of speaking,-- "one thing for his Majella: never, never say
that he has nothing to give her.
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