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It seemed to her so utterly useless, this inquiry by strangers into the cause of her sorrow. "I must just write something," she added. She went up the steps into the sitting-room. Gaspare was there with three men the Pretore, the Cancelliere and the Maresciallo. As she came in the strangers turned and saluted her with grave politeness, all looking earnestly at her with their dark eyes.
I suppose he came down after I had started for Messina." "What did you go to Messina for?" "Signore, I went to see my nephew, Guido, who is in the hospital. He has " "Non fa niente! non fa niente!" interrupted the Cancelliere. "Non fa niente! What time did you start?" said the Pretore. The Maresciallo cleared his throat with great elaboration, and spat with power twice.
The poor signore was my benefactor. If I had known he was coming I should have been here to receive him. Why, he has eaten in my house! He has slept in my house. I tell you we were as brothers." "Si, si," said the Cancelliere. Gaspare set his teeth, walked away to the edge of the plateau, and stood looking out to sea. "Then no one saw you?" persisted the Pretore. "Non lo so," said Salvatore.
"The Signor Pretore has gone down to the place now, signore, with the Cancelliere and the Maresciallo. They have taken Gaspare with them." "Gaspare!" Artois thought of this boy, Maurice's companion during Hermione's absence. "Si, signore. Gaspare has to show them the exact place where he found the poor signore." "I suppose the inquiry will soon be over?" "Chi lo sa?"
He had gray hair and a dark mustache, and his black eyes looked as if they had been varnished. Hermione went to the writing-table, while the men stood in silence filling up the little room. "What shall I say?" she thought. She heard the boots of the Cancelliere creak as he shifted his feet upon the floor. The Maresciallo cleared his throat. There was a moment of hesitation.
As he began to think, really to think, and to realize things, he knew that after such a death the authorities of Marechiaro, the Pretore and the Cancelliere, would proceed to hold a careful examination into the causes of death. He would be questioned. That was certain. The opportunity would be given him to denounce Salvatore. And was he to keep silence?
"I see no objection," said the Pretore. He glanced at the Cancelliere, a small, pale man, with restless eyes and a pointed chin that looked like a weapon. "Niente, niente!" said the Cancelliere, obsequiously. He was reading Artois with intense sharpness. The Maresciallo, a broad, heavily built man, with an enormous mustache, uttered a deep "Buon giorno, Signor Barone," and stood calmly staring.
The authorities were already at the cottage; the Pretore of Marechiaro with his Cancelliere, Dr. Marini and the Maresciallo of the Carabinieri. "They have come already?" Hermione said. "So soon?" She took the note. It was from Artois. "There is a boy waiting, signora," said Giuseppe. "Gaspare is with the Signor Pretore." She opened Emile's note.
At the same time I must do my duty. That is evident." "It seems to me you have done it with admirable thoroughness," said Artois. "Grazie, Signor Barone, grazie!" "Grazie, grazie, Signor Barone!" added the Cancelliere. "Grazie, Signor Barone!" said the deep voice of the Maresciallo. The authorities now slowly prepared to take their departure.
But surely in such a moment they would not speak to her of any suspicions, of any certainties, even if they had them. She would surely be the last person to hear anything, unless he thought of the "authorities" of the Pretore, the Cancelliere, the Maresciallo, and suddenly it occurred to him to ride down to the sea.
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