She felt as if she were quite alone on the island. She could scarcely believe that Vere, that Gaspare, that the servants were there--among them Peppina with her cross.
They said Peppina had the evil eye. Had she perhaps cast a spell to-night?
Hermione did not smile at such an imagination as she dismissed it.
She waited and listened, but not actively, for she did not feel as if Ruffo could ever stand with her in the embrace of such a night, he, a boy, with bright hopes and eager longings, he the happy singer of the song of Mergellina.
And yet, when in a moment she found him standing by her side, she accepted his presence as a thing inevitable.
It had been meant, perhaps for centuries, that they two should stand together that night, speak together as now they were about to speak.
"Signora, buona sera."
"Buona sera, Ruffo."
"The Signorina is not here to-night?"
"I think she is in the house. I think she is tired to-night."
"The Signorina is tired after the Festa, Signora."
"You knew we were at the Festa, Ruffo?"
"Ma si, Signora."
"Did we tell you we were going? I had forgotten."
"It was not that, Signora. But I saw the Signorina at the Festa. Did not Don Gaspare tell you?"
"Gaspare said nothing. Did he see you?"
She spoke languidly. Quickness had died out of her under the influence of the night. But already she felt a slight yet decided sense of relief, almost of peace. She drew that from Ruffo. And, standing very close to him, she watched his eager face, hoping to see presently in it the expression that she loved.
"Did he see you, Ruffo?"
"Ma si, Signora. I was with my poor mamma."
"Your mother! I wish I had met her!"
"Si, Signora. I was with my mamma in the Piazza of Masaniello. We had been eating snails, Signora, and afterwards watermelon, and we had each had a gla.s.s of white wine. And I was feeling very happy, because my poor mamma had heard good news."
"What was that?"
"To-morrow my Patrigno is to be let out of prison."
"So soon! But I thought he had not been tried."
"No, Signora. But he is to be let out now. Perhaps he will be put back again. But now he is let out because"--he hesitated--"because--well, Signora, he has such friends, he has friends who are powerful for him.
And so he is let out just now."
"I understand."
"Well, Signora, and after the white wine we were feeling happy, and we were going to see everything: the Madonna, and Masaniello, and the fireworks, and the fire-balloon. Did you see the fire-balloon, Signora?"
"Yes, Ruffo. It was very pretty."
His simple talk soothed her. He was so young, so happy, so free from the hideous complexities of life; no child of tragedy, but the son surely of a love that had been gay and utterly contented.
"Si, Signora! Per dio, Signora, it was wonderful! It was just before the fire-balloon went up, Signora, that I saw the Signorina with the Neapolitan Signorino. And close behind them was Don Gaspare. I said to my mamma, "Mamma, ecco the beautiful Signorina of the island!" My mamma was excited, Signora. She held on to my arm, and she said: "Ruffino,"
she said, "show her to me. Where is she?" my mamma said, Signora. "And is the Signora Madre with her?" Just then, Signora, the people moved, and all of a sudden there we were, my mamma and I, right in front of Don Gaspare."
Ruffo stopped, and Hermione saw a change, a gravity, come into his bright face.
"Well, Ruffo?" she said, wondering what was coming.
"I said to my mamma, Signora, "Mamma, this is Don Gaspare of the island." Signora, my mamma looked at Don Gaspare for a minute. Her face was quite funny. She looked white, Signora, my mamma looked white, almost like the man at the circus who comes in with the dog to make us laugh. And Don Gaspare, too, he looked"--Ruffo paused, then used a word beloved of Sicilians who wish to be impressive--"he looked mysterious, Signora. Don Gaspare looked mysterious."
"Mysterious? Gaspare?"
"Si, Signora, he did. And he looked almost white, too, but not like my mamma. And then my mamma said, "Gaspare!" just like that, Signora, and put out her hand--so. And Don Gaspare"s face got red and hot. And then for a minute they spoke together, Signora, and I could not hear what they said. For Don Gaspare stood with his back so that I should not hear. And then the balloon went sideways and the people ran, and I did not see Don Gaspare any more. And after that, Signora, my mamma was crying all the time. And she would not tell me anything. I only heard her say: "To think of its being Gaspare! To think of its being Gaspare on the island!" And when we got home she said to me, "Ruffo," she said, "has Gaspare ever said you were like somebody?" What is it, Signora?"
"Nothing, Ruffo. Go on."
"But--"
"Go on, Ruffo."
""Has Gaspare ever said you were like somebody?" my mamma said."
"And you--what did you say?"
"I said, "No," Signora. And that is true. Don Gaspare has never said I was like somebody."
The boy had evidently finished what he had to say. He stood quietly by Hermione, waiting for her to speak in her turn. For a moment she said nothing. Then she put her hand on Ruffo"s arm.
"Whom do you think your mother meant when she said "somebody," Ruffo?"
"Signora, I do not know."
"But surely--didn"t you ask whom she meant?"
"No, Signora. I told my mamma Don Gaspare had never said that. She was crying. And so I did not say anything more."
Hermione still held his arm for a moment. Then her hand dropped down.
Ruffo was looking at her steadily with his bright and searching eyes.
"Signora, do you know what she meant?"