the usual indication of a future nose.
“This is my baby,” said Tessa, seating herself close to Baldassarre. “You didn’t think it was so pretty, did you? It is like the little Gesù, and I should think the Santa Madonna would be kinder to me now, is it not true? But I have not much to ask for, because I have everything now—only that I should see my husband oftener. You may hold the bambino a little if you like, but I think you must not kiss him, because you might hurt him.”
She spoke this prohibition in a tone of soothing excuse, and Baldassarre could not refuse to hold the small package.
“Poor thing! poor thing!” he said, in a deep voice which had something strangely threatening in its apparent pity. It did not seem to him as if this guileless loving little woman could reconcile him to the world at all, but rather that she was with him against the world, that she was a creature who would need to be avenged.