ked up the steep path and
came to the plateau before the Casa delle Sirene.

A group of people stood there: the Pretore, the Cancelliere, the
Maresciallo, Gaspare, and Salvatore. They seemed to be in strong
conversation, but directly Artois appeared there was a silence, and they
all turned and stared at him as if in wonder. Then Gaspare came forward
and took off his hat.

The boy looked haggard with grief, and angry and obstinate, desperately
obstinate.

"Signore," he said. "You know my padrone! Tell them--"

But the Pretore interrupted him with an air of importance.

"It is my duty to make an inquiry," he said. "Who is this signore?"

Artois explained that he was an intimate friend of the signora and had
known her husband before his marriage.

"I have come to hear if you are satisfied, as no doubt you are, Signor
Pretore," he said, "that this terrible death was caused by an accident.
The poor signora naturally wishes that this necessary business should be
finished as soon as possible. It is unavoidable, I know, but it can only
add to her unhappiness. I am sure, signore, that you will do your best to
conclude the inquiry without delay. Forgive me for saying this. But I
know Sicily, and know that I can always rely on the chivalry of Sicilian
gentlemen where an unhappy lady is concerned."

He spoke intentionally with a certain pomp, and held his hat in his hand
while he was speaking.

The Pretore looked pleased and flattered.

"Certainly, Signor Barone," he said. "Certainly. We all grieve for the
poor signora."

"You will allow me to stay?" said Artois.

"I see no objection," said the Pretore.

He glanced at the Cancelliere, a small, pale man, with restless eyes and
a pointed chin that looked like a weapon.

"Niente, niente!" said the Cancelliere, obsequiously.

He was reading Artois with intense sharpness. The Maresciallo, a broad,
heavily built man, with an enormous mustache, uttered a deep "Buon
giorno, Signor Barone," and stood calmly staring. He looked like a
magnificent bull, with his short, strong brown neck, and low-growing hair
that seemed to have been freshly crimped. Gaspare stood close to Artois,
as if he felt that they were allies and must keep together. Salvatore was
a few paces off.

Artois glanced at him now with a carefully concealed curiosity. Instantly
the fisherman said:

"Povero signorino! Povero signorino! Mamma mia! and only two days ago we
were all at the fair together! And he