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That night, at twenty-one o'clock, Hermione and Lucrezia stood under the arch, and watched Maurice and Gaspare springing down the mountain-side as if in seven-leagued boots. Soon they disappeared into the darkness of the ravine, but for some time their loud voices could be heard singing lustily: "Ciao, ciao, ciao, Morettina bella ciao, Prima di partire Un bacio ti voglio da'; Un bacio al pap
But at last she called out, "Ciao, Annunziata. Are you dreaming dreams and seeing visions?" Annunziata started and looked up. "Sh-h!" she whispered, with an admonitory gesture. She stole a wary glance roundabout, and then spoke as one fearful of being overheard. "I was listening to the music of Divopan," she said. Maria Dolores, who had come closer, appeared at a loss.
"Adesso sto bene!" The plunge had made him suddenly feel tremendously young and triumphant, reckless with a happiness that thrilled with audacity. As he waded out he began to sing in a loud voice: "Ciao, ciao, ciao, Morettina bella ciao, Prima di partire Un bacio ti voglio da'."
He was escorted to a small inn where his only refreshments were two cups of tea. The crowd demanded a speech, and to quiet the yelling, Paul stepped to the porch of the inn and delivered most of the Italian words he knew: "Signori, taute grazie di vostra accoglienza, arrivederie, ciao!" The speech was greeted with great applause and the crowd was satisfied.
But he felt, and therefore showed, none. His soft hat cocked at an impudent angle over his sparkling, dark eyes, his laughing lips, his easy, eager manner, and his pleasant familiarity with Gaspare at once reassured everybody, and when he cried out, "Ciao, amici, ciao!" and waved a pair of bathing drawers towards the sea, indicating that he was prepared to be the first to go in with the net, there was a general laugh, and a babel of talk broke forth talk which he did not fully understand, yet which did not make him feel even for a moment a stranger.
"Oh, dolce luna bianca de l' estate " The voice upon the sea was singing always the song of Mergellina. But to Hermione it began to seem that the song was changing to another song, and that the voice that was dying away across the shrouded water was sinking into the shadows of a ravine upon a mountainside. "Ciao, Ciao, Ciao, Morettina bella, ciao "
Their voices died away, and with them the dry noise of stones falling downward from their feet on the sunbaked mountain-side. Hermione sat still on the seat by the ravine. "Ciao, ciao, ciao!" She thought of the young peasants going off to be soldiers, and singing that song to keep their hearts up. Some day, perhaps, Gaspare would have to go. He was the eldest of his family, and had brothers.
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