The Call of the Blood
Page 206It was nearly two o'clock in the morning when Maurice and Gaspare said
good-bye to Maddalena and her father on the road by Isola Bella.
Salvatore had left the three donkeys at Cattaro, and had come the rest of
the way on foot, while Maddalena rode Gaspare's beast.
"The donkey you bought is for Maddalena," Maurice had said to him.
And the fisherman had burst into effusive thanks. But already he had his
eye on a possible customer in Cattaro. As soon as the Inglese had gone
back to his own country the donkey would be resold at a good price. What
did a fisherman want with donkeys, and how was an animal to be stabled on
the Sirens' Isle? As soon as the Inglese was gone, Salvatore meant to put
a fine sum of money into his pocket.
"Addio, signorino!" he said, sweeping off his hat with the wild,
kiss the hand of your signora."
He bent down his head as if he were going to translate the formal phrase
into an action, but Maurice drew back.
"Addio, Salvatore," he said.
His voice was low.
"Addio, Maddalena!" he added.
She murmured something in reply. Salvatore looked keenly from one to the
other.
"Are you tired, Maddalena?" he asked, with a sort of rough suspicion.
"Si," she answered.
She followed him slowly across the railway line towards the sea, while
They rode upward in silence. Gaspare was sleepy. His head nodded loosely
as he rode, but his hands never let go their careful hold of the clock.
Round about him his many purchases were carefully disposed, fastened
elaborately to the big saddle. The roses, faded now, were still above his
ears. Maurice rode behind. He was not sleepy. He felt as if he would
never sleep again.
As they drew nearer to the house of the priest, Gaspare pulled himself
together with an effort, half-turned on his donkey, and looked round at
his padrone.
"Signorino!"
"Si."
"I don't know. I suppose so."
The boy looked wise.
"I do not think so," he said, firmly.
"What--at three o'clock in the morning!"
"I think the signora will be on the terrace watching for us."
Maurice's lips twitched.
"Chi lo sa?" he replied.
He tried to speak carelessly, but where was his habitual carelessness of
spirit, his carelessness of a boy now? He felt that he had lost it
forever, lost it in that last hour of the fair.