see--"

He checked himself. He had been going to say, "Some day you shall see
her."

"And she is very clever," he said, after a moment.

"Clever?" said Maddalena, evidently not understanding what he meant.

"She can understand many things and she has read many books."

"But what is the good of that? Why should a girl read many books?"

"She is not a girl."

"Not a girl!"

She looked at him with amazed eyes and her voice was full of amazement.

"How old are you, signorino?" she asked.

"How old do you think?"

She considered him carefully for a long time.

"Old enough to make the visit," she said, at length.

"The visit?"

"Yes."

"What? Oh, do you mean to be a soldier?"

"Si, signore."

"That would be twenty, wouldn't it?"

She nodded.

"I am older than that. I am twenty-four."

"Truly?"

"Truly."

"And is the signora twenty-four, too?"

"Maddalena!" Maurice exclaimed, with a sudden impatience that was almost
fierce. "Why do you keep on talking about the signora to-night? This is
your festa. The signora is in Africa, a long way off--there--across the
sea." He stretched out his arm, and pointed towards the wide waters above
which the stars were watching. "When she comes back you can see her, if
you wish--but now--"

"When is she coming back?" asked the girl.

There was an odd pertinacity in her character, almost an obstinacy,
despite her young softness and gentleness.

"I don't know," Maurice said, with difficulty controlling his gathering
impatience.

"Why did she go away?"

"To nurse some one who is ill."

"She went all alone across the sea?"

"Yes."

Maddalena turned and looked into the dimness of the sea with a sort of
awe.

"I should be afraid," she said, after a pause.

And she shivered slightly.

Maurice had let go the oars again. He felt a longing to put his arm round
her when he saw her shiver. The night created many longings in him, a
confusion of longings, of which he was just becoming aware.

"You are a child," he said, "and have never been away from your 'paese.'"

"Yes, I have."

"Where?"

"I have been to the fair of San Felice."

He smiled.

"Oh--San Felice! And did you go in the train?"

"Oh no, signore. I went on a donkey. It was last year, in June. It was
beautiful. There were women there in blue silk dresses with ear-rings as
long as that"--she measured their length in the air with her brown
fingers--"and there was a boy from Napoli, a real Nap