On Christmas Day we had currant cake in honour of the feast, and Sister
Angela asked Father Giovanni to come to tea, and he came, and was quite
cheerful, so that when the Sister, who was also very happy, signalled to
me to take some mistletoe from the bottom of a picture I held it over
his head and kissed him from behind. Then he snatched me up in his arms
and kissed me back, and we had a great romp round the chairs and tables.
But the Ave Maria began to ring from the churches, and Father Giovanni
(according to the rule of our Convent) having to go, he kissed me again,
and then I said:
"Why don't you kiss Sister Angela too?"
At that they only looked at each other and laughed, but after a moment
he kissed her hand, and then she went downstairs to see him out into the
garden.
When she came back her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were flushed,
and, that night, when she took away her black and white whimple and
gorget on going to bed, she stood before a looking-glass and wound her
beautiful light hair round her finger and curled it over her forehead
in the way it was worn by the ladies we saw in the streets.
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