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"The music of what?" she questioned. "Sh-h!" whispered Annunziata. "I would not dare to say it aloud. The music of Divopan." "Divopan?" Maria Dolores puzzled, compliantly guarding her tone. "What is that?" "Divo Pan," said Annunziata, dividing the word in two, and always with an air of excessive caution. But Maria Dolores helplessly shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't understand.
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.
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