"Because you are so beautiful—like the people going into Paradise—they are all good."
"It is a long while since you had your breakfast, Tessa," said Tito, seeing some stalls near, with fruit and sweetmeats upon them. "Are you hungry?"
"Yes, I think I am—if you will have some too."
Tito bought some apricots, and cakes, and comfits, and put them into her apron.
"Come," he said, "let us walk on to the Prato, and then perhaps you will not be afraid to go the rest of the way alone."
"But you will have some of the apricots and things," said Tessa, rising obediently and gathering up her apron as a bag for her store.
"We will see," said Tito aloud; and to himself he said, "Here is a little contadina who might inspire a better idyl than Lorenzo de' Medici's Nencia da Barberino, that Nello's friends rave about; if I were only a Theocritus, or had time to cultivate the necessary experience by unseasonable walks of this sort! However, the mischief is done now: I am so late already that another half hour will make no difference. Pretty little pigeon!"
"We have a garden and plenty of pears," said Tessa, "and two cows, besides the mules; and I'm very fond of them. But the patrigno is a cross man: I wish my mother had not married him. I think he is wicked; he is very ugly."
