The Call of the Blood
Page 120"Signorino, ecco la posta!"
And Gaspare came running down from the terrace, the wide brim of his
white linen hat flapping round his sun-browned face.
"I don't want it, Gaspare. I don't want anything."
"But I think there's a letter from the signora!"
"From Africa?"
Maurice sat up and held out his hand.
"Yes, it is from Kairouan. Sit down, Gaspare, and I'll tell you what the
padrona says."
Gaspare squatted on his haunches like an Oriental, not touching the
ground with his body, and looked eagerly at the letter that had come
across the sea. He adored his padrona, and was longing for news of her.
Already he had begun to send her picture post-cards, laboriously written
over. "Tanti saluti carissima Signora Pertruni, a rividici, e suno il suo
servo fidelisimo per sempre--Martucci Gaspare. Adio! Adio! Ciao! Ciao!"
What would she say? And what message would she send to him? His eyes
sparkled with affectionate expectation.
"HOTEL DE FRANCE, KAIROUAN.
be given up to nursing Emile. Thank God, I arrived in time. Oh,
Maurice, when I saw him I can't tell you how thankful I was that I
had not hesitated to make the journey, that I had acted at once on
my first impulse to come here. And how I blessed God for having
given me an unselfish husband who trusted me completely, and who
could understand what true friendship between man and woman means,
and what one owes to a friend. You might so easily have
misunderstood, and you are so blessedly understanding. Thank you,
dearest, for seeing that it was right of me to go, and for thinking
of nothing but that. I feel so proud of you, and so proud to be
your wife. Well, I caught the train at Tunis mercifully, and got
here at evening. He is frightfully ill. I hardly recognized him.
But his mind is quite clear, though he suffers terribly. He was
poisoned by eating some tinned food, and peritonitis has set in. We
can't tell yet whether he will live or die. When he saw me come in
he gave me such a look of gratitude, although he was writhing with
pain, that I couldn't help crying. It made me feel so ashamed of
home and our happiness. And it was difficult to give it all up, to
come out of paradise. That last night I felt as if I simply
couldn't leave you, my darling. But I'm glad and thankful I've done
it. I have to do everything for him. The doctor's rather an ass,
very French and excitable, but he does his best. But I have to see
to everything, and be always there to put on the poultices and the
ice, and--poor fellow, he does suffer so, but he's awfully brave
and determined to live. He says he will live if it's only to prove
that I came in time to save him. And yet, when I look at him, I
feel as if--but I won't give up hope. The heat here is terrible,
and tries him very much now he is so desperately ill, and the
flies--but I don't want to bother you with my troubles. They're not
very great--only one. Do you guess what that is? I scarcely dare to
think of Sicily. Whenever I do I feel such a horrible ache in my
heart. It seems to me as if I had not seen your face or touched
your hand for centuries, and sometimes--and that's the worst of
all--as if I never should again, as if our time together and our
it again. That's a little morbid, I know, but I think it's always
like that with a great happiness, a happiness that is quite
complete. It seems almost a miracle to have had it even for a
moment, and one can scarcely believe that one will be allowed to
have it again. But, please God, we will. We'll sit on the terrace
again together, and see the stars come out, and--The doctor's come
and I must stop. I'll write again almost directly. Good-night, my
dearest. Buon riposo. Do you remember when you first heard that?
Somehow, since then I always connect the words with you. I won't
send my love, because it's all in Sicily with you. I'll send it
instead to Gaspare. Tell him I feel happy that he is with the
padrone, because I know how faithful and devoted he is. Tanti
saluti a Lucrezia. Oh, Maurice, pray that I may soon be back. You
do want me, don't you?
HERMIONE."