"Signorino, there is no light! Look!"
"The signora and Lucrezia must be asleep at this hour."
"If they are, what are we to do? Shall we wake them?"
"No, no."
He spoke quickly, in hope of a respite.
"We will wait--we will not disturb them."
Gaspare looked down at the parcel he was holding with such anxious care.
"I would like to play the 'Tre Colori,'" he said. "I would like the
first thing the signora hears when she wakes to be the 'Tre Colori.'"
"Hush! We must be very quiet."
The noise made on the path by the tripping feet of the donkeys was almost
intolerable to him. It must surely wake the deepest sleeper. They were
now on the last ascent where the mountain-side was bare. Some stones
rattled downward, causing a sharp, continuous sound. It was answered by
another sound, which made both Gaspare and Maurice draw rein and pull up.
As on that first day in Sicily Maurice had been welcomed by the
"Pastorale," so he was welcomed by it now. What an irony that was to him!
For an instant his lips curved in a bitter smile. But the smile died away
as he realized things, and a strange sadness took hold of his heart. For
it was not the ceramella that he heard in this still hour, but a piano
played softly, monotonously, with a dreamy tenderness that made it surely
one with the tenderness of the deep night. And he knew that Hermione had
been watching, that she had heard him coming, that this was her welcome,
a welcome from the depths of her pure, true heart. How much the music
told him! How clearly it spoke to him! And how its caress flagellated his
bare soul! Hermione had returned expectant of welcome and had found
nothing, and instead of coming out upon the terrace, instead of showing
surprise, vexation, jealous curiosity, of assuming the injured air that
even a good woman can scarcely resist displaying in a moment of acute
disappointment, she sent forth this delicate salutation to him from afar,
the sweetest that she knew, the one she herself loved best.
Tears came into his eyes as he listened. Then he shut his eyes and said
to himself, shuddering: "Oh, you beast! You beast!"
"It is the signora!" said Gaspare, turning round on his donkey. "She does
not know we are here, and she is playing to keep herself awake."
He looked down at his clock, and his eyes began to shine.