"Excuse me just for an instant!" he said. "I want to speak to Gaspare."

He saw now that Gaspare was taking into the cottage the provisions that

had been carried up by the donkey from Marechiaro.

"I--I told him to do something for me in the village," he added, "and I

want just to know--"

He looked at them, almost defiantly, as if he challenged them not to

believe what he had said. Then, without finishing his sentence, he went

quickly into the cottage.

"You have chosen your garden well," Artois said to Hermione directly they

were alone. "No other sea has ever given to me such an impression of

tenderness and magical space as this; no other sea has surely ever had a

horizon-line so distant from those who look as this."

He went on talking about the beauty, leading her with him. He feared lest

she might begin to speak about her husband.

Meanwhile, Maurice had reached the mountain-side behind the house and was

waiting there for Gaspare. He heard the boy's voice in the kitchen

speaking to Lucrezia, angrily it seemed by the sound. Then the voice

ceased and Gaspare appeared for an instant at the kitchen door, making

violent motions with his arms towards the mountain. He disappeared. What

did he want? What did he mean? The gestures had been imperative. Maurice

looked round. A little way up the mountain there was a large, closed

building, like a barn, built of stones. It belonged to a contadino, but

Maurice had never seen it open, or seen any one going to or coming from

it. As he stared at it an idea occurred to him. Perhaps Gaspare meant him

to go and wait there, behind the barn, so that Lucrezia should not see or

hear their colloquy. He resolved to do this, and went swiftly up the

hill-side. When he was in the shadow of the building he waited. He did

not know what was the matter, what Gaspare wanted, but he realized that

something had occurred which had stirred the boy to the depths. This

something must have occurred while he was at Marechiaro. Before he had

time mentally to make a list of possible events in Marechiaro, Maurice

heard light feet running swiftly up the mountain, and Gaspare came round

the corner, still with the look of tragedy, a wild, almost terrible look

in his eyes.

"Signorino," he began at once, in a low voice that was full of the

pressure of an intense excitement. "Tell me! Where were you last night

when we were making the fireworks go off?"




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