Reluctantly he turned and swam back to the shallow water. But when his

feet touched bottom he stood still. That cry of a woman from the mystery

of the rocks had startled, had fascinated his ears. Suddenly he

remembered that he must be near to that Casa delle Sirene, whose little

light he had seen from the terrace of the priest's house on his first

evening in Sicily. He longed to hear that woman's voice again. For a

moment he thought of it as the voice of a siren, of one of those beings

of enchantment who lure men on to their destruction, and he listened

eagerly, almost passionately, while the ruffled water eddied softly about

his breast. But no music stole to him from the blackness of the rocks,

and at last he turned slowly and waded to the shore.

He was met with merry protests. Nito declared that the net had nearly

been torn out of his hands. Gaspare, half undressed to go to his rescue,

anxiously inquired if he had come to any harm. The rocks were sharp as

razors near the point, and he might have cut himself to pieces upon them.

He apologized to Nito and showed Gaspare that he was uninjured. Then,

while the others began to count the fish, he went to the boats to put on

his clothes, accompanied by Gaspare.

"Why did you swim towards the rocks, signorino?" asked the boy, looking

at him with a sharp curiosity.

Delarey hesitated for a moment. He was inclined, he scarcely knew why, to

keep silence about the cry he had heard. Yet he wanted to ask Gaspare

something.

"Gaspare," he said, at last, as they reached the boats, "was any one of

you on the rocks over there just now?"

He had forgotten to number his companions when he reached the shore.

Perhaps one was missing, and had wandered towards the point to watch him

fishing.

"No, signore. Why do you ask?"

Again Delarey hesitated. Then he said: "I heard some one call out to me there."

He began to rub his wet body with a towel.

"Call! What did they call?"

"Nothing; no words. Some one cried out."

"At this hour! Who should be there, signore?"

The action of the rough towel upon his body brought a glow of warmth to

Delarey, and the sense of mystery began to depart from his mind.

"Perhaps it was a fisherman," he said.

"They do not fish from there, signore. It must have been me you heard.

When you went under the water I cried out. Drink some wine, signorino."




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