"About--about the child?"

"Yes."

He did not answer with words, but he put his arms about her and kissed

her, as he had not kissed her since she went away to Africa. She shut her

eyes. Presently she felt the pressure of his arms relax.

"I'm perfectly happy now," she said. "Perfectly happy."

He moved away a step or two. His face was flushed, and she thought that

he looked younger, that the boyish expression she loved had come back to

him.

"Good-bye, Hermione," he said.

Still he did not go. She thought that he had something more to say but

did not know how to say it. She felt so certain of this that she said: "What is it, Maurice?"

"We shall come back to Sicily, I suppose, sha'n't we, some time or

other?"

"Surely. Many times, I hope."

"Suppose--one can never tell what will happen--suppose one of us were to

die here?"

"Yes," she said, soberly.

"Don't you think it would be good to lie there where we lay this

afternoon, under the oak-trees, in sight of Etna and the sea? I think it

would. Good-bye, Hermione."

He swung the bathing-dress and the towels up over his shoulder and went

away through the arch. She followed and watched him springing down the

mountain-side. Just before he reached the ravine he turned and waved his

hand to her. His movements, that last gesture, were brimful of energy and

of life. He acted better then than he had that day upon the terrace. But

the sense of progress, the feeling that he was going to meet fate in the

person of Salvatore, quickened the blood within him. At last the suspense

would be over. At last he would be obliged to play not the actor but the

man. He longed to be down by the sea. The youth in him rose up at the

thought of action, and his last farewell to Hermione, looking down to him

from the arch, was bold and almost careless.

Scarcely had he got into the ravine before he met Gaspare. He stopped.

The boy's face was aflame with expression as he stood, holding his gun,

in front of his padrone.

"Gaspare!" Maurice said to him.

He held out his hand and grasped the boy's hot hand.

"I sha'n't forget your faithful service," he said. "Thank you, Gaspare."

He wanted to say more, to find other and far different words. But he

could not.

"Let me come with you, signorino."




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