CHAPTER XII
AT the side of the doorway leading into one of those amazing Venetian glass-shops stood two carabinieri. They were watching the little scene curiously, wondering if they would be called in to take part. In St. Mark's the carabinieri are always watching. There is at least one spot in Italy where a woman may walk alone, assured of protection. So these two watched and waited. The smile on William's face puzzled them. They did not see his eyes as Ruth did.
To her the smile was not a puzzle, but a revelation, for she saw the tiger behind it. The eyes seemed actually to diffuse an electric fluid so strong that it touched and vivified her who stood at least three feet away. He must have looked like this that day when, unarmed, he had gone down boldly into the den of the Black-Handers and fought for Tommaso's boy. The conspicuity of the freckles alone would have marked the high tide of his anger, none the less deadly because of the bantering smile.
And she had patronized him, casually accepted the gift of his friendship as one accepted a book, a box of candy, or a bouquet of flowers! She could not have been more astonished if she had seen a
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