nd and warm with the life that is young. And
what had it meant to him? He had taken it carelessly with a laugh. He had
washed it from his lips in the sea. Now he remembered it, and, in
thought, he took the kiss again, but more slowly, more seriously. And he
took it at evening, at the coming of night, instead of at dawn, at the
coming of day--his kiss from Sicily.

He took it at evening.

He had finished dinner now, and he pushed back his chair and drew a cigar
from his pocket. Then he struck a match. As he was putting it to the
cigar he looked again towards the sea and saw the light.

"Damn!"

"Signore!"

Gaspare came running.

"I didn't call, Gaspare, I only said 'Mamma mia!' because I burned my
fingers."

He struck another match and lit the cigar.

"Signore--" Gaspare began, and stopped.

"Yes? What is it?"

"Signore, I--Lucrezia, you know, has relatives at Castel Vecchio."

Castel Vecchio was the nearest village, perched on the hill-top opposite,
twenty minutes' walk from the cottage.

"Ebbene?"

"Ebbene, signorino, to-night there is a festa in their house. It is the
festa of Pancrazio, her cousin. Sebastiano will be there to play, and
they will dance, and--"

"Lucrezia wants to go?"

"Si, signore, but she is afraid to ask."

"Afraid! Of course she can go, she must go. Tell her. But at night can
she come back alone?"

"Signore, I am invited, but I said--I did not like the first evening that
the padrona is away--if you would come they would take it as a great
honor."

"Go, Gaspare, take Lucrezia, and bring her back safely."

"And you, signore?"

"I would come, too, but I think a stranger would spoil the festa."

"Oh no, signore, on the contrary--"

"I know--you think I shall be sad alone."

"Si, signore."

"You are good to think of your padrone, but I shall be quite content. You
go with Lucrezia and come back as late as you like. Tell Lucrezia! Off
with you!"

Gaspare hesitated no longer. In a few minutes he had put on his best
clothes and a soft hat, and stuck a large, red rose above each ear. He
came to say good-bye with Lucrezia on his arm. Her head was wrapped in a
brilliant yellow-and-white shawl with saffron-colored fringes. They went
off together laughing and skipping down the stony path like two children.

When their footsteps died away Delarey, who had walked to the archway to
see them off, returned slowly to the terrace and began to pace up and
down, puffing at his cigar.