ta, signore," explained Amedeo. "Afterwards
there will be the Musica Mascagni and the Musica Leoncavallo."

"Mamma mia! And will they all play together?"

"No, signore. They have quarrelled. At Pasqua we had no music, and the
archpriest was hooted by all in the Piazza."

"Why?"

"Non lo so. I think he had forbidden the Musica Mascagni to play at Madre
Lucia's funeral, and the Musica Mascagni went to fight with the Musica
della citta. To-day they will all play, because it is the festa of the
Santo Patrono, but even for him they will not play together."

The bandsmen had now taken their places upon a wooden dais exactly
opposite to the restaurant, and were indulging in a military rendering of
"Celeste Aida," which struck most of the Sicilians at the small tables to
a reverent silence. Maddalena's eyes had become almost round with
pleasure, Gaspare was singing the air frankly with Amedeo, and even
Salvatore seemed soothed and humanized, as he sipped his coffee, puffed
at a thin cigar, and eyed the women who were slowly sauntering up and
down to show their finery. At the windows of most of the neighboring
houses appeared parties of dignified gazers, important personages of the
town, who owned small balconies commanding the piazza, and who now
stepped forth upon these coigns of vantage, and leaned upon the rails
that they might see and be seen by the less favored ones below. Amedeo
and Gaspare began to name these potentates. The stout man with a gray
mustache, white trousers, and a plaid shawl over his shoulders was Signor
Torloni, the syndic of San Felice. The tall, angry-looking gentleman,
with bulging, black eyes and wrinkled cheeks, was Signor Carata, the
avvocato; and the lady in black and a yellow shawl was his wife, who was
the daughter of the syndic. Close by was Signorina Maria Sacchetti, the
beauty of San Felice, already more than plump, but with a good
complexion, and hair so thick that it stood out from her satisfied face
as if it were trained over a trellis. She wore white, and long, thread
gloves which went above her elbows. Maddalena regarded her with awe when
Amedeo mentioned a rumor that she was going to be "promised" to Dr.
Marinelli, who was to be seen at her side, wearing a Gibus hat and
curling a pair of gigantic black mustaches.

Maurice listened to the music and the chatter which, silenced by the
arrival of the music, had now burst forth again, with rather indifferent
ears. He wanted to get away