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It seemed to him as if he had been living under glass while he had fancied himself enclosed in rock that was impenetrable by human eyes. He tried to laugh away his slight confusion. "Gaspare, you are the most birbante boy in Sicily!" he said. "You are like a Mago Africano." "Signorino, you should trust me," returned the boy, sullenly.
"I had seen the Signorina before I came to meet you at the house." "Had you?" "Didn't you know it?" "Yes, I did." "I knew she told you." "What?" "She told you! she told you! She is birbante. She is a woman, for she pretended as only a woman can pretend." "What did she pretend?" "That she was not pleased at my coming, at my finding out where she lived, and seeking her.
"Did you hear me that time?" Vere said, rather eagerly. The boy lifted his dark head from the water to shake it, drew a long breath, trod water, then threw up his chin with the touch of tongue against teeth which is the Neapolitan negative. "You didn't! Then why did you come up?" He swam to the boat. "It pleased me to come." She looked doubtful. "I believe you are birbante," she said, slowly.
Per Dio, signore, you are birbante!" She gave a little low laugh. "So you think I " He stopped. What need was there to go on? She had read him and was openly rejoicing in what she thought his slyness. "And my father," she added, "is a fox of the sea, signore. Ask Gaspare if there is another who is like him. You will see! When they stop playing at dawn the twenty-five lire will be in his pocket!"
I know that." She spoke with conviction, nodding her head. "Perhaps the Signora does not see." Vere smiled. "Gaspare, I believe you are horribly sharp," she said. "I often think you notice everything. You are birbante, I am half afraid of you." Gaspare smiled, too. He had quite recovered his good humor. It pleased him mightily to fancy he had seen what the Padrona had not seen.
"You hid, signore?" Maurice's face flushed. An angry word rose to his lips, but he checked it and laughed, remembering that he had to deal with a boy, and that Gaspare was devoted to him. "Well, I waited among the trees birbante!" "And you saw Salvatore?" "He came out and went down to the fishing." "Salvatore is a terrible man. He used to beat his wife Teresa." "P'f!
She spoke with pride. "But Gaspare is so lucky," said Maurice. "Gaspare is only a boy. How can he cheat better than my father?" "They cheat, then!" "Of course, when they can. Why not, madonna!" Maurice burst out laughing. "And you call me birbante!" he said. "To know what my father loves best! Signorino! Signorino!"
He would have done the same as his padrone in similar circumstances with a light heart, with no sense of doing wrong. Only sometimes he raised a warning voice. "Signorino," he would say, "do not forget what I have told you." "What, Gaspare?" "Salvatore is birbante. You think he likes you." "Why shouldn't he like me?" "You are a forestiere. To him you are as nothing. But he likes your money."
Salvatore would see a prospect of money. And he Maurice did want to go out fishing. Suddenly he knew it. His spirits rose and he clapped Gaspare on the back. "Of course I do. I want to know Salvatore. Come along. We'll take his boat one day and go out fishing." Gaspare's grave face relaxed in a sly smile. "Signorino!" he said, shaking his hand to and fro close to his nose. "Birbante!"
All the English are simpatici. Come this way, signore! Gaspare knows me. Gaspare knows that I am not birbante." "Signorino! Signorino! Look at this clock! It plays the 'Tre Colori. It is worth twenty-five lire, but I will make a special price for you because you love Sicily and are like a Siciliano. Gaspare will tell you " But Gaspare elbowed away his acquaintances roughly.
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