to do in Sorrento at night; no theaters, no bands,
no well-lighted cafes, nothing save wandering companies who dance the
tarantella in the lobbies of the hotels, the men clumsy in their native
costumes and the girls with as much grace and figure as so many heifers.
It is only in Sicily that the Latin has learned to dance. But the
tarantella is a novelty to the sight-seeing tourist, who believes he
must see everything in order to be an authority when he gets back home.

Giovanni did not return till late that night, and on the morrow Hillard
questioned him.

"I have been to see a cousin," said Giovanni, "who lives on the way to
El Deserta."

"Ah! So you have a cousin here?"

"Yes, signore."

How old he looked, poor devil! Hillard had not taken particular notice
of him during the past week's excursions. Giovanni had aged ten years
since they landed.

"And was this cousin glad to see you? And is he to be trusted?"

"Both, signore. He had some news. She is--dancer in one of the Paris
music-cafes."

Hillard kindled his pipe thoughtfully. And patiently Giovanni waited,
knowing that shortly his master would offer some suggestion.

"Would you like me to give you the necessary money to go to Paris and
bring her back to the Sabine Hills?" he asked softly.

"I shall go to Paris, signore--after."

"You will never find him."

"Who can say?"

"What is his name?" Hillard had never till this moment asked this
question.

"I know it; that is sufficient. He is high, signore, very high; yet I
shall reach him. If I told you his name--"

"There would be the possibility of my warning him."

"That is why I hesitate."

"You are a Catholic, Giovanni."

Giovanni signified that he was.

"Does not the God of all Catholics, of all Christians, in fact, does He
not say that vengeance is His and that He will repay?"

"But there are so many of us, signore, so many of us small and of slight
importance, that, likely enough, God with all His larger cares has not
the time to remember us. What may happen to him in the hereafter does
not concern me; for he will certainly be in the purgatory of the rich
and I in the purgatory of the poor. It must be now, now!"

"Go your own way," said Hillard, dismissing him; "I shall never urge you
again."

Giovanni gone, Hillard leaned against the casement. The sun was bright
this morning and the air was clear. He could see Naples distinctly.
Below, the fishermen and their wives, their bare feet