topsy. His appearance gave them a fresh topic to discuss. They fell
upon it like starveling dogs on a piece of offal found in the gutter.

Once out of the village, Artois felt a little safer, a little easier; but
he longed to be in the train with Hermione, carrying her far from the
chance of that most cruel fate in life--the fate of disillusion, of the
loss of holy belief in the truth of one beloved.

When presently he reached the high-road by Isola Bella he encountered the
fisherman, Giuseppe, who had spent the night at the Casa del Prete.

"Are you going to see the place where the poor signore was found,
signore?" asked the man.

"Si," said Artois. "I was his friend. I wish to see the Pretore, to hear
how it happened. Can I? Are they there, he and the others?"

"They are in the Casa delle Sirene, signore. They are waiting to see if
Salvatore comes back this morning from Messina."

"And his daughter? Is she there?"

"Si, signore. But she knows nothing. She was in the village. She can
only cry. She is crying for the poor signore."

Again that statement. It was becoming a refrain in the ears of Artois.

"Gaspare is angry with her," added the fisherman. "I believe he would
like to kill her."

"It makes him sad to see her crying, perhaps," said Artois. "Gaspare
loved the signore."

He saluted the fisherman and rode on. But the man followed and kept by
his side.

"I will take you across in a boat, signore," he said.

"Grazie."

Artois struck the donkey and made it trot on in the dust.

Giuseppe rowed him across the inlet and to the far side of the Sirens'
Isle, from which the little path wound upward to the cottage. Here, among
the rocks, a boat was moored.

"Ecco, signore!" cried Giuseppe. "Salvatore has come back from Messina!
Here is his boat!"

Artois felt a pang of anxiety, of regret. He wished he had been there
before the fisherman had returned. As he got out of the boat he said:

"Did Salvatore know the signore well?"

"Si, signore. The poor signore used to go out fishing with Salvatore.
They say in the village that he gave Salvatore much money."

"The signore was generous to every one."

"Si, signore. But he did not give donkeys to every one."

"Donkeys? What do you mean, Giuseppe?"

"He gave Salvatore a donkey, a fine donkey. He bought it at the fair of
San Felice."

Artois said no more. Slowly, for he was still very weak, and the heat was
becoming fierce as the morning wore on, he wal