would be nothing to buy all the donkeys at the fair of San
Felice."

Maurice moved ever so little away from him.

"Ah, signorino, if I had been born you how happy I should be!"

And he heaved a great sigh and puffed at the cigarette voluptuously.

Maurice said nothing. He was still looking at the railway platform. And
now he seemed to see the train gliding in on the day of the fair of San
Felice.

"Signorino! Signorino!"

"Well, what is it, Salvatore?"

"I have ordered the donkeys for ten o'clock. Then we can go quietly. They
will be at Isola Bella at ten o'clock. I shall bring Maddalena round in
the boat."

"Oh!"

Salvatore chuckled.

"She has got a surprise for you, signore."

"A surprise?"

"Per Dio!"

"What is it?"

His voice was listless, but now he looked at Salvatore.

"I ought not to tell you, signore. But--if I do--you won't ever tell
her?"

"No."

"A new gown, signorino, a beautiful new gown, made by Maria Compagni here
in the Corso. Will you be at Isola Bella with Gaspare by ten o'clock on
the day, signorino?"

"Yes, Salvatore!" Maurice said, in a loud, firm, almost angry voice. "I
will be there. Don't doubt it. Addio Salvatore!"

He got up.

"A rivederci, signore. Ma--"

He got up, too, and bent to pick up his fish-basket.

"No, don't come with me. I'm going up now, straight up by the Castello."

"In all this heat? But it's steep there, signore, and the path is all
covered with stones. You'll never--"

"That doesn't matter. I like the sun. Addio!"

"And this evening, signorino? You are coming to bathe this evening?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. Don't wait for me. Go to sea if you want
to!"

"Birbanti!" muttered the fisherman, as he watched Maurice stride away
across the Piazza, and strike up the mountain-side by the tiny path that
led to the Castello. "You want to get me out of the way, do you?
Birbanti! Ah, you fine strangers from England! You think to come here and
find men that are babies, do you? men that--"

He went off noiselessly on his bare feet, muttering to himself with the
half-smoked cigarette in his lean, brown hand.

Meanwhile, Maurice climbed rapidly up the steep track over the stones in
the eye of the sun. He had not lied to Salvatore. While the fisherman had
been speaking to him he had come to a decision. A disgraceful decision he
knew it to be, but he would keep to it. Nothing should prevent him from
keeping to it. He would be at Isola Bella on