up and
down, then brought it downward with force, as if beating some one, or
something, to his feet.

"I see," Maurice said, dully. "I see."

He thought to himself that he had been cleverer than Salvatore the
preceding night, but he felt no sense of triumph. He had divined the
fisherman's passion and turned it to his purpose. But what of that? Let
the man rejoice, if he could, in this dream. Let all men do what they
wished to do so long as he could be undisturbed. 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. Just let me swim out
and come back. If I want you I'll call. But don't follow me."

Salvatore nodded appreciatively. He liked a good swimmer, a real man of
the sea.

"And don't wake Gaspare, or he'll be after me."

"Va bene!"

Maurice stripped off his clothes, all the time looking at the sea. Then
he sat down on the gunwale of the boat with his feet in the water.
Salvatore had stopped rowing. Gaspare still slept.

It was curious to be going to give one's self to this silent silver thing
that waited so calmly for the gift. He felt a sort of dull voluptuousness
stealing over him as he stared at the water. He wanted to get away from
his companions, from the boat, to be quite alone with sirocco.

"Addio Salvatore!" he said, in a low voice.

"A rivederci, signore."

He let himself down slowly into the water, feet foremost, and swam
slowly away into the dream that lay before him.

Even now that he was in it the water felt strangely warm. He had not let
his head go under, and the sweat was still on his face. The boat lay
behind him. He did not think of it. He had forgotten it. He felt himself
to be alone, utterly alone with the sea.

He had always loved the sea, but in a boyish, wholly natural way, as a
delightful element, health-giving, pleasure-giving, associating it with
holiday times, with bathing, fishing, boating, with sails on moonlight
nights, with yacht-races about the Isle of Wight in the company of gay
comrades. This sea of Sicily seemed different to him to-day from other
seas, more mysterious and more fascinating, a sea of sirens about a
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