orino! Signorino!"

Gaspare was by his side, streaming with perspiration and looking
violently excited.

"Gaspare!"

He stopped, cast a swift look round. Gaspare was alone.

"Signorino"--the boy was breathing hard--"the signora"--he gulped--"the
signora has come back."

The time had come for acting. Maurice feigned surprise.

"The signora! What are you saying? The signora is in Africa."

"No, signore! She is here!"

"Here in San Felice!"

"No, signore! But she was in the train. I saw her at the window. She
waved her hand to me and called out--when the train was on the bridge. I
ran to the station; I ran fast, but when I got there the train had just
gone. The signora has come back, and we are not there to meet her!"

His eyes were tragic. Evidently he felt that their absence was a matter
of immense importance, was a catastrophe.

"The signora here!" Maurice repeated, trying to make his voice amazed.
"But why did she not tell us? Why did not she say that she was coming?"

He looked at Gaspare, but only for an instant. He felt afraid to meet his
great, searching eyes.

"Non lo so."

Maddalena stood by in silence. The bright look of anticipation had gone
out of her face, and was replaced by a confused and slightly anxious
expression.

"I can't understand it," Maurice said, heavily. "I can't--was the signora
alone, or did you see some one with her?"

"The sick signore? I did not see him. I saw only the signora standing at
the window, waving her hand--cosi!"

He waved his hand.

"Madonna!" Maurice said, mechanically.

"What are we to do, signorino?"

"Do! What can we do? The train has gone!"

"Si, signore. But shall I fetch the donkeys?"

Maurice stole a glance at Maddalena. She was looking frankly piteous.

"Have you got the clock yet?" he asked Gaspare.

"No, signore."

Gaspare began to look rather miserable, too.

"It has not been put up. Perhaps they are putting it up now."

"Gaspare," Maurice said, hastily, "we can't be back to meet the signora
now. Even if we went at once we should be hours late--and the donkeys are
tired, perhaps. They will go slowly unless they have a proper rest. It is
a dreadful pity, but I think if the signora knew she would wish us to
stay now till the fair is over. She would not wish to spoil your
pleasure. Do you think she would?"

"No, signore. The signora always wishes people to be happy."

"Even if we went at once it would be night before we got back."