The Call of the Blood

Her Sicilian and his tarantella, the tarantella of his joy in

Sicily--they had gone away into the blue.

She looked at it, deep, quivering, passionate, intense; thousands and

thousands of miles of blue! And she listened as she looked; listened for

some far-off tarantella, for some echo of a fainting tarantella, that

might be a message to her, a message left on the sweet air of the

enchanted island, telling her where the winged feet of her beloved one

mounted towards the sun.