it. He looked at the
watercourse hard. The crowd of people was not very far off. He thought he
detected the form of Gaspare. Yes, it was Gaspare. He and Amedeo were on
the outskirts of the crowd near the railway bridge. As he gazed, the
train whistled once more, and he saw Gaspare turn round and look towards
the sea. He held his breath.

"Ecco, signorino. Viene!"

Maddalena touched his arm, kept her hand upon it. She was deeply
interested in this event, the traversing by the train of the unfinished
bridge. Maurice was thankful for that. At least she did not notice his
violent perturbation.

"Look, signorino! Look!"

In despite of himself, Maurice obeyed her. He wanted not to look, but he
could not help looking. The engine, still whistling, crept out from the
embrace of the lemon-trees, with the dingy line of carriages behind it.
At most of the windows there were heads of people looking out. Third
class--he saw soldiers, contadini. Second class--no one. Now the
first-class carriages were coming. They were close to him.

"Ah!"

He had seen Hermione. She was standing up, with her two hands resting on
the door-frame and her head and shoulders outside of the carriage.
Maurice sat absolutely still and stared at her, stared at her almost as
if she were a stranger passing by. She was looking at the watercourse, at
the crowd, eagerly. Her face, much browner than when she had left Sicily,
was alight with excitement, with happiness. She was radiant. Yet he
thought she looked old, older at least than he had remembered. Suddenly,
as the train came very slowly upon the bridge, she drew in to speak to
some one behind her, and he saw vaguely Artois, pale, with a long beard.
He was seated, and he, too, was gazing out at the fair. He looked ill,
but he, too, looked happy, much happier than he had in London. He put up
a thin hand and stroked his beard, and Maurice saw wrinkles coming round
his eyes as he smiled at something Hermione said to him. The train came
to the middle of the bridge and stopped.

"Ecco!" murmured Maddalena. "The man at the other end has signalled!"

Maurice looked again at the watercourse. Gaspare was beyond the crowd
now, and was staring at the train with interest, like Maddalena. Would it
never go on? Maurice set his teeth and cursed it silently. And his soul
said; "Go on! Go on!" again and again. "Go on! Go on!" Now Hermione was
once more leaning out. Surely she must see Gaspare. A man waved a flag.
The