The Call of the Blood - Page 159/317

"I'll let him see that when he comes," he said to himself. "I'll take a

strong line. A man must be the master of his own life if he's worth

anything. These Sicilians understand that."

He began secretly to admire what before he had thought almost hateful,

the strong Arab characteristics that linger on in many Sicilians, to

think almost weak and unmanly the Western attitude to woman.

"I will be master," he said to himself again. "All these Sicilians are

wondering that I ever let Hermione go to Africa. Perhaps they think I'm a

muff to have given in about it. And now, when Hermione comes back with a

man, they'll suppose--God knows what they won't imagine!"

He had begun so to identify himself with the Sicilians about Marechiaro

that he cared what they thought, was becoming sensitive to their opinion

of him as if he had been one of themselves. One day Gaspare told him a

story of a contadino who had bought a house in the village, but who,

being unable to complete the payment, had been turned out into the

street.

"And now, signorino," Gaspare concluded, "they are all laughing at him in

Marechiaro. He dare not show himself any more in the Piazza. When a man

cannot go any more into the Piazza--Madonna!"

He shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands in a gesture of

contemptuous pity.

"E' finito!" he exclaimed.

"Certo!" said Maurice.

He was resolved that he would never be in such a case. Hermione, he felt

now, did not understand the Sicilians as he understood them. If she did

she would not bring back Artois from Africa, she would not arrive openly

with him. But surely she ought to understand that such an action would

make people wonder, would be likely to make them think that Artois was

something more than her friend. And then Maurice thought of the day of

their arrival, of his own descent to the station, to wait upon the

platform for the train. Artois was not going to stay in the house of the

priest. That was impossible, as there was no guest-room. He would put up

at the hotel in Marechiaro. But that would make little difference. He was

to arrive with Hermione. Every one would know that she had spent all this

time with him in Africa. Maurice grew hot as he thought of the smiles on

the Sicilian faces, of the looks of astonishment at the strange doings of

the forestieri. Hermione's enthusiastic kindness was bringing her husband

almost to shame. It was a pity that people were sometimes thoughtless in

their eager desire to be generous and sympathetic.