enthroned.

Gaspare stirred in the boat, lifted his head from his arms and looked
sleepily around him. He saw Salvatore lighting a pipe, bending forward
over a spluttering match which he held in a cage made of his joined
hands. He glanced away from him still sleepily, seeking the padrone, but
he saw only the empty seats of the boat, the oars, the coiled-up nets,
and lines for the fish.

"Dove--?" he began.

He sat up, stared wildly round.

"Dov'e il padrone?" he cried out, shrilly.

Salvatore started and dropped the match. Gaspare sprang at him.

"Dov'e il padrone? Dov'e il padrone?"

"Sangue di--" began Salvatore.

But the oath died upon his lips. His keen eyes had swept the sea and
perceived that it was empty. From its silver the black dot which he had
been admiringly watching had disappeared. Gaspare had waked, had asked
his fierce question just as Maurice threw up his hands and sank down in
his travesty of death.

"He was there! Madonna! He was there swimming a moment ago!" exclaimed
Salvatore.

As he spoke he seized the oars, and with furious strokes propelled the
boat in the direction Maurice had taken. But Gaspare would not wait. His
instinct forbade him to remain inactive.

"May the Madonna turn her face from thee in the hour of thy death!" he
yelled at Salvatore.

Then, with all his clothes on, he went over the side into the sea.

Maurice was an accomplished swimmer, and had ardently practised swimming
under water when he was a boy. He could hold his breath for an
exceptionally long time, and now he strove to beat all his previous
records. With a few strokes he came up from the depths of the sea towards
the surface, then began swimming under water, swimming vigorously, though
in what direction he knew not. At last he felt the imperative need of
air, and, coming up into the light again, he gasped, shook his head,
lifted his eyelids that were heavy with the pressure of the water, heard
a shrill cry, and felt a hand grasp him fiercely.

"Signorino! Signorino!"

"Gaspare!" he gulped.

He had not fully drawn breath yet.

"Madonna! Madonna!"

The hand still held him. The fingers were dug into his flesh. Then he
heard a shout, and the boat came up with Salvatore leaning over its side,
glaring down at him with fierce anxiety. He grasped the gunwale with both
hands. Gaspare trod water, caught him by the legs, and violently assisted
him upward. He tumbled over the side into the boat. Gaspare came