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Updated: June 5, 2025
As he went down the steps to the terrace the sound of Gaspare's passionate weeping followed him into the night. When the doctor was on the donkey and was riding out through the arch, after a brief colloquy with the fishermen and with Giuseppe, whom he had told to remain at the cottage for the rest of the night, he suddenly remembered the cigar which he had left upon the table, and he pulled up.
"Yes, if she were coming she would certainly have written by now." "Signorino! Signorino! Are you ready?" It was Gaspare's voice shouting vivaciously from the sunny terrace, where Tito and another donkey, gayly caparisoned and decorated with flowers and little streamers of colored ribbon, were waiting before the steps. "Si, si! I'm coming in a moment!" replied Maurice's voice from the bedroom.
Now he lifted them, and looked Artois straight in the face. "No, Signore, I am not sure of that," he said. There was nothing rude in his voice, but there was something stern. Artois felt as if a strong, determined man stood in his path and blocked the way. But why? Surely they were at cross purposes. The working of Gaspare's mind was not clear to him.
Gaspare's eyes were always fixed steadily upon Artois, who, as he spoke the last words, fancied he saw come into them an expression that was almost severely ironical. It vanished at once as Gaspare said: "No, Signore."
Gaspare and I have passed through too much together for anything of that kind. Nobody could ever take his place with me, and he knows it quite well." "Gaspare's a darling, and I love him," said Vere, rather inconsequently. "Shall we look over into the Pool from the pavilion, or go down by the steps?" "We'll look over."
Salvatore returned his vicious glance and said something in dialect which Maurice did not understand. Gaspare's face flushed, and he was about to burst into an angry reply when Maurice touched his arm. "Come along, Gaspare!" As they got up, he whispered: "Remember what I said about to-day!" "Macchè " Maurice closed his fingers tightly on Gaspare's arm. "Gaspare, you must remember!
After a minute of silence Delarey's memory recalled some words of Gaspare's, till then forgotten. "You are Maddalena!" he said, in Italian. The girl nodded. "Si, signore." She uttered the words softly, then fell into silence again, staring at him with her lustrous eyes, that were like black jewels. "You live here with Salvatore?"
He began to sob violently again, thinking of it all, of how he had ordered the donkeys to fetch the luggage from the station, of how "Hush, Gaspare!" Hermione again put her hand on his. She was sitting near the bed on which the body was lying between dry sheets. For she had changed them with Gaspare's assistance. Maurice still wore the clothes which had been on him in the sea.
For the past was gathered in Gaspare, spoke to him in Gaspare's voice, looked at him from Gaspare's eyes, and in Gaspare's soul waited surely to know how it would be redeemed. He turned from the sea and looked towards the cliff. Now he had the palace on his left hand. On his right, not far off, was a high bluff going almost sheer into the sea.
For the sun beat down with fury upon the open space with its tiled pavement, and the seats let into the wall that sheltered the Piazza from the precipice that frowned above the sea were untenanted by loungers. As Maurice went by he thought of Gaspare's words, "When a man cannot go any more into the Piazza Madonna, it is finished!"
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