to gossip with the neighbors."

"Has Maddalena broken her legs--Madonna!" burst forth Gaspare.

"Come along, Gaspare!" said Maurice, hastily.

He bade good-bye to the fisherman and his daughter, and set off with
Gaspare through the trees.

"Be nice to Salvatore," said Maurice, as they went down towards the rocky
wall.

"But he wants to make you give him a donkey, signorino. You do not know
him. When he is with you at the fair he will--"

"Never mind. I say, Gaspare, I want--I want that day at the fair to be a
real festa. Don't let's have any row on that day."

Gaspare looked at him with surprised, inquiring eyes, as if struck by his
serious voice, by the insisting pressure in it.

"Why that day specially, signorino?" he asked, after a pause.

"Oh, well--it will be my last day of--I mean that the signora will be
coming back from Africa by then, and we shall--"

"Si, signore?"

"We sha'n't be able to run quite so wild as we do now, you see. And,
besides, we shall be going to England very soon then."

Gaspare's face lighted up.

"Shall I see London, signorino?"

"Yes," said Maurice.

He felt a sickness at his heart.

"I should like to live in London always," said Gaspare, excitedly.

"In London! You don't know it. In London you will scarcely ever see the
sun."

"Aren't there theatres in London, signorino?"

"Theatres? Yes, of course. But there is no sea, Gaspare, there are no
mountains."

"Are there many soldiers? Are there beautiful women?"

"Oh, there are plenty of soldiers and women."

"I should like always to live in London," repeated Gaspare, firmly.

"Well--perhaps you will. But--remember--we are all to be happy at the
fair of San Felice."

"Si, signore. But be careful, or Salvatore will make you buy him a
donkey. He had a wine-shop once, long ago, in Marechiaro, and the
wine--Per Dio, it was always vino battezzato!"

"What do you mean?"

"Salvatore always put water in it. He is cattivo--and when he is angry--"

"I know. You told me. But it doesn't matter. We shall soon be going away,
and then we sha'n't see him any more."

"Signorino?"

"Well?"

"You--do you want to stay here always?"

"I like being here."

"Why do you want to stay?"

For once Maurice felt as if he could not meet the boy's great, steady
eyes frankly. He looked away.

"I like the sun," he answered. "I love it! I should like to live in the
sunshine forever."

"And I should like to live always in London,