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Meanwhile, Maurice helped Maddalena onto her donkey, and paid and dismissed the boy who had brought it and Salvatore's beast from Marechiaro. Then he took out his watch. "A quarter-past ten," he said. "Off we go! Now, Gaspare uno! due! tre!"
He would forget. He would put away these thoughts that were tormenting him. He would enjoy this day of pleasure for which he had sacrificed so much, for which he had trampled down his self-respect in the dust. When they reached the road by Isola Bella, Salvatore's boat was just coming round the point, vigorously propelled by the fisherman's strong arms over the radiant sea.
Maurice could hear their breathing, Maddalena's light and faint, Salvatore's heavy and whistling, and degenerating now and then into a sort of stifled snore. But sleep did not come to Maurice. His eyes were open, and his clasped hands supported his head. He was thinking, thinking almost angrily. He loved joy as few Englishmen love it, but as many southerners love it.
Salvatore, with an autocratic air, and the wild gestures peculiar to him, was evidently laying down the law as to what each animal was worth. The fishermen stood by, listening attentively. The fact of Salvatore's purchasing power gave him the right to pronounce an opinion. He was in glory. Maurice thanked Heaven for that. The man in glory is often the forgetful man.
He knew it from Salvatore's manner, and an odd sensation came to him that Salvatore had passed sentence upon him. In silence, and mechanically, he walked on to the end of the street.
He had not yet recovered from his indignation at the success of Salvatore's cheating, and Maurice, who had not slept, felt the bounding life, the bounding fire of his youth held in check as by the action of a spell. The carelessness of excitement, of passion, was replaced by another carelessness the carelessness of dream. It seemed to him now as if nothing mattered or ever could matter.
Salvatore's hand was on his arm, and Salvatore's face, looking wily and triumphant, was close to his. "Gaspare was wrong, there are splendid donkeys here. I have been talking to some friends who have seen them." There was a tramp of heavy boots on the stones behind them. The fishermen from Catania were coming to see the fun. Salvatore was in glory.
He looked again at the sea, dropped his hand into it once more. "Shall I let down a line, signore?" Salvatore's keen eyes were upon him. He shook his head. "Not yet. I " He hesitated. The still silver of the sea drew him. He touched his forehead with his hand and felt the dampness on it. "I'm going in," he said. "Can you swim, signore?" "Yes, like a fish. Don't follow me with the boat.
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