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Updated: June 5, 2025
That seemed to her strange, that any one should know the truth of this thing before she did. For what did it matter to any one but her? Maurice was hers was so absolutely hers that she felt as if no one else had any concern in him. He was Gaspare's padrone. Gaspare loved him as a Sicilian may love his padrone. Others in England, too, loved him his mother, his father.
Gaspare's face cleared, and in a moment he was immersed in an eager colloquy with the waiter, another friend of his from Marechiaro. Amedeo Buccini took a place by Gaspare, and all those from Marechiaro, who evidently considered that they belonged to the Inglese's party for the day, arranged themselves as they pleased and waited anxiously for the coming of the macaroni.
I feel as if that would be a tender companionship. I gave everything to him when he was alive, and I don't want to keep anything back now. I would like the sun to be with him under Gaspare's roses. And yet I know he's elsewhere. I can't explain.
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!"
"But, while she is there, it would be absurd if I might not speak to any one." Gaspare's burden of doubt, perhaps laid on his young shoulders by his loyalty to his padrona, was evidently lightened. "I see, signore," he said. "You can each have a friend. But have you explained to Maddalena?" "If you think it necessary, I will explain."
Her impulse was to catch Gaspare's arm, to say to him, "Look! Don't you see your Padrone?" She did not do this, but she did turn impulsively to Gaspare. And as she turned she saw tears start into his eyes. The blood rushed to his temples, his forehead. He put up his hand to his face. "Signora," he said, "are you not coming?" He cleared his throat violently. "I have taken a cold," he muttered.
Gaspare's voice sounded rebellious. "Va bene, Gaspare, va bene. Have you seen the Signorina?" "I think she is at the wooden seat, Signore. The Signorina likes to look at the sea from there." "I will go and see if I can find her." "Va bene, Signore. And I will go to speak with the Signora." He took off his hat and went into the house.
Hermione listened with painful attention. So Maurice had nearly died, had been into the jaws of death, while she had been in Africa! Her fears there had been less ill-founded than she had thought. A horror came upon her as she heard Gaspare's story. "And then, signora, I cried," he ended. "I cried." "You cried?" "I thought I never could stop crying again."
Have you ever noticed anything about that boy, Ruffo, anything at all, that surprised you?" "Surprised me, Signora?" "Surprised you, or reminded you of anything?" "I don't know what you mean, Signora." Gaspare's voice was hard and cold.
"If the poor Signora had not been mad she could not have looked at me like that at another, perhaps, but not at me." It seemed as if at last his long reserve was breaking down. He put up his hand to his eyes. "I did not think that my Padrona " He stopped. Artois remembered the face at the window. He grasped Gaspare's hand. "The Signora does not understand," he said.
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