And looking mischievously at Hermione, he began to sing in a loud, warm

voice: "Cu Gabbi e Jochi e Parti e Mascarati,

Si fa lu giubileu universali.

Tiripi-tùmpiti, tùmpiti, tùmpiti,

Milli cardùbuli 'n culu ti pùncinu!"

Gaspare burst into a roar of delighted laughter.

"It's the tarantella over again," Hermione said. "You're a hopeless

Sicilian. I give you up."

That same day she said to him: "You love the peasants, don't you, Maurice?"

"Yes. Are you surprised?"

"No; at least I'm not surprised at your loving them."

"Well, then, Hermione?"

"Perhaps a little at the way you love them."

"What way's that?"

"Almost as they love each other--that's to say, when they love each other

at all. Gaspare now! I believe you feel more as if he were a young

brother of yours than as if he were your servant."

"Perhaps I do. Gaspare is terrible, a regular donna[1] of a boy in spite

of all his mischief and fun. You should hear him talk of you. He'd die

for his padrona."

[Footnote: 1. The Sicilians use the word "donna" to express the meaning

we convey by the word "trump."] "I believe he would. In love, the love that means being in love, I think

Sicilians, though tremendously jealous, are very fickle, but if they take

a devotion to any one, without being in love, they're rocks. It's a

splendid quality."

"If they've got faults, I love their faults," he said. "They're a lovable

race."

"Praising yourself!" she said, laughing at him, but with tender eyes.

"Myself?"

"Never mind. What is it, Gaspare?"

Gaspare had come upon the terrace, his eyes shining with happiness and a

box under his arm.

"The signore knows."

"Revolver practice," said Maurice. "I promised him he should have a try

to-day. We're going to a place close by on the mountain. He's warned off

Ciccio and his goats. Got the paper, Gaspare?"

Gaspare pointed to a bulging pocket.

"Enough to write a novel on. Well--will you come, Hermione?"

"It's too hot in the sun, and I know you're going into the eye of the

sun."

"You see, it's the best place up at the top. There's that stone wall,

and--"

"I'll stay here and listen to your music."

They went off together, climbing swiftly upward into the heart of the

gold, and singing as they went: "Ciao, ciao, ciao,

Morettina bella, ciao--"




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