there, to dance the country dances and join in the songs of Sicily. He
slipped the key into his pocket and went down the steps to the terrace.
But there he hesitated again. He took the key out of his pocket, looked
at it as it lay in his hand, then put it down on the sill of the
sitting-room window.

"If any one comes, there isn't very much to steal," he thought. "And,
perhaps--" Again he looked at the lights of Castel Vecchio, then down
towards the sea. The star of the sea shone steadily and seemed to summon
him. He left the key on the window-sill, with a quick gesture pulled his
hat-brim down farther over his eyes, hastened along the terrace, and,
turning to the left beyond the archway, took the path that led through
the olive-trees towards Isola Bella and the sea.

Through the wonderful silence of the night among the hills there came now
a voice that was thrilling to his ears--the voice of youth by the sea
calling to the youth that was in him.

Hermione was travelling to her friend. Must he remain quite friendless?

All the way down to the sea he heard the calling of the voice.

X

As dawn was breaking, Lucrezia and Gaspare climbed slowly up the
mountain-side towards the cottage. Lucrezia's eyes were red, for she had
just bidden good-bye to Sebastiano, who was sailing that day for the
Lipari Isles, and she did not know how soon he would be back. Sebastiano
had not cried. He loved change, and was radiant at the prospect of his
voyage. But Lucrezia's heart was torn. She knew Sebastiano, knew his wild
and adventurous spirit, his reckless passion for life, and the gifts it
scatters at the feet of lusty youth. There were maidens in the Lipari
Isles. They might be beautiful. She had scarcely been jealous of
Sebastiano before her betrothal to him, for then she had had no rights
over him, and she was filled with the spirit of humbleness that still
dwells in the women of Sicily, the spirit that whispers "Man may do what
he will." But now something had arisen within her to do battle with that
spirit. She wanted Sebastiano for her very own, and the thought of his
freedom when away tormented her.

Gaspare comforted her in perfunctory fashion.

"What does it matter?" he said. "When you are married you can keep him in
the house, and make him spin the flax for you."

And he laughed aloud. But when they drew near to the cottage he said:

"Zitta, Lucrezia! The padrone is asleep. We must steal in softly and not
waken h