er in some savage place.
Why not give all these people the slip now--somehow--when the fun of the
fair was at its height, mount the donkeys and ride straight for the huge
mountain? There were caverns there and desolate lava wastes; there were
almost impenetrable beech forests. Sebastiano had told him tales of
them, those mighty forests that climbed up to green lawns looking down
upon the Lipari Isles. He thought of their silence and their shadows,
their beds made of the drifted leaves of the autumn. There, would be no
disturbance, no clashing of wills and of interests, but calm and silence
and the time to love. He glanced at Maddalena. He could hardly help
imagining that she knew what he was thinking of. Salvatore had dropped
behind for a moment. Maurice did not know it, but the fisherman had
caught sight of his comrades of Catania drinking in a roadside wine-shop,
and had stopped to show them the note for a hundred francs, and to make
them understand the position of affairs between him and the forestiere.
Gaspare was talking eagerly to Amedeo about the things that were likely
to be put up for sale at the auction.

"Maddalena," Maurice said to the girl, in a low voice, "can you guess
what I am thinking about?"

She shook her head.

"No, signore."

"You see the mountain!"

He pointed to the end of the little street.

"Si, signore."

"I am thinking that I should like to go there now with you."

"Ma, signorino--the fiera!"

Her voice sounded plaintive with surprise and she glanced at her
pea-green skirt.

"And this, signorino!"--she touched it carefully with her slim fingers.
"How could I go in this?"

"When the fair is over, then, and you are in your every-day gown,
Maddalena, I should like to carry you off to Etna."

"They say there are briganti there."

"Brigands--would you be afraid of them with me?"

"I don't know, signore. But what should we do there on Etna far away from
the sea and from Marechiaro?"

"We should"--he whispered in her ear, seizing this chance almost angrily,
almost defiantly, with the thought of Salvatore in his mind--"we should
love each other, Maddalena. It is quiet in the beech forests on Etna. No
one would come to disturb us, and----"

A chuckle close to his ear made him start. Salvatore's hand was on his
arm, and Salvatore's face, looking wily and triumphant, was close to his.

"Gaspare was wrong, there are splendid donkeys here. I have been talking
to some friends who hav