As he said the last words Artois made his deep voice sound mysterious,
mystical.
Then he went away softly among the thickly growing trees.
When he saw Salvatore again, still standing upon the plateau, he beckoned
to him without coming into the open.
"Bring the boat round to the inlet," he said. "I will cross from there."
"Si, signore."
"And as we cross we can speak a little more about America."
The fisherman stared at him, with a faint smile that showed a gleam of
sharp, white teeth.
"Si, signore--a little more about America."