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She went down the steps. The man immediately brought his boat right in. "No," she said, "I don't want the boat." Fabiano looked a little disappointed. "I am looking for some one who lives here, a Sicilian boy called Ruffo." "Ruffo Scarla, Signora? The Sicilian?" "That must be he. Do you know him?" "Si, Signora, I know Ruffo very well. He was here this morning. But I don't know where he is now."
I used to sit up with them, you know, whenever they had scarla" "Oh yes, we know," interrupts Roger, most unfeelingly. "Well, in the early dawn," continues Dicky, quite unmoved, "when the little birds were singing, I used to think I could be happy as General Sir Richard Browne, at the head of a gallant corps, with a few darkies in the foreground fleeing before my trusty blade.
Artois smiled. The tension which had surprised the sailor left his face. "I understand. But there is no Sicilian here called Buonavista?" "A Sicilian, Signore? I never heard of one. Are there Buonavistas in Sicily?" "I have met with the name there once. But perhaps you can tell me of a boy, one of the fishermen, called Ruffo?" "Ruffo Scarla?
You mean Ruffo Scarla, who fishes with Giuseppe Mandano Giuseppe, Signore?" "It may be. A young fellow, a Sicilian by birth, I believe." "Il Siciliano! Si, Signore. We call him that, but he has never been in Sicily, and was born in America." "That's the boy." "Do you want him, Signore? But he is not here to-day. He is at sea to-day." "I did want to speak to him."
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