As she set her foot on the gunwale Ruggiero held up his hand towards her to help her.
It was not the first time this duty had fallen to him, but she was more radiantly fresh to-day than he had ever seen her before, and the spasm that seemed to crush his heart for a moment was more violent than usual.
His strong joints trembled at her light touch and his face turned white.
She felt that his hand shook and she glanced at him when she stood in the boat.
"Are you ill, Ruggiero ?" she asked, in a kindly tone.
"No, Excellency," he answered in a low voice that was far from steady, while the shadow of a despairing smile flickered over his features.
He put up his hand to help Teresina, the maid.

She pressed it hard as she jumped down, and smiled with much intention at the handsome sailor.
But she got no answer for her look, and he turned away and shoved the boat off the little stone pier.

Bastianello was watching them both, and wishing himself in Ruggiero's place.

But Ruggiero, as he believed, had loved the pretty Teresina first, and Ruggiero had the first right to win her if he could.
So the boat shot out upon the crisping water into the light afternoon breeze, and up went foresail and mainsail and jib, and away she went on the port tack, San Miniato steering and talking to Beatrice--which things are not to be done together with advantage--the Marchesa lying back in a cane rocking-chair and thinking of nothing, while Teresina held the parasol over her mistress's head and shot bright glances at the sailors forward.

And Ruggiero and Bastianello sat side by side amidships looking out at the gleaming sea to windward.
"What hast thou ?" asked Bastianello in a low voice.
"The pain," answered his brother.
"Why let thyself be consumed by it?
Ask her in marriage.