re at her ease, she strolled away into the
wood, giving one lingering glance as she left the place to bid him
follow. The youth was not loth to accept the hint, and soon overtook
her.

'And so,' said she, taking his hand between both her own, 'you _will_
stay?'

'I have promised it,' replied Gerald.

'All for me, all for me, as the little song says.'

'I never heard it. Will you sing it, Marietta?' said he, placing his arm
around her waist.

'I 'll go and fetch my guitar, then,' said she, and bounding away, was
soon once more beside him, sweeping her fingers over the cords as she
came.

'It's nothing of a song, either words or music; but I picked it up at
Capri, and it reminds me of that sweet spot.' So saying, and after a
little prelude, she sang the canzonette, of which the following words
are a rude version:

'I know a bark on a moonlit sea,
Pescator! Pescator!
There's one in that bark a-thinking of me,
Oh, Pescator!
And while his light boat steals along,
Pescator! Pescator!
He murmurs my name in his evening song,
Oh, Pescator!
He prays the Madonna above my head,
Pescator! Pescator!
To bring sweet dreams around my bed,
Oh, Pescator!
And when the morning breaks on shore,
I'll kneel and pray for my Pescator,
Who ventures alone on the stormy sea,
All for me! all for me!'!!!!

Simple as were the words, the wild beauty of the little air thrilled
through Gerald's heart, and twice did he make her repeat it.

'Oh, if you like barcarolles,' said she, 'I'll sing you hundreds of
them, and teach you, besides, to sing them with me. We shall be so
happy, _Gherardi mio_, living thus together.

'And not regret Chico?' said Gerald gravely.

'Chico was very clever, but he was cruel. He would beat me when I would
not learn quickly; and my life was very sad when he was with us. See,'
said she, drawing down her sleeve from her shoulder, 'these stripes were
of his giving.'

'_Briccone!_' muttered Gerald, 'if I had him here.'

'Ah, he was so treacherous! He 'd have stabbed you at the altar-foot
rather than let a vengeance escape him. He was a Corsican.'

'And are they so treacherous always?'

'Are they?' cried she. '_Per Dio_, I believe they are.'

'Well, let's talk of him no more. I only mentioned his name because I
feared you loved him, Marietta.'

'And if I had!' asked she,