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Don Emilio will row me. We are only going a
very little way."
She stepped in. As Artois followed her he said to Gaspare:
"Those fishermen have gone?"
"Five minutes ago, Signore. There they are!"
He pointed to a boat at some distance, moving slowly in the direction
of Posilipo.
"I have been talking with them. One says he is of my country, a
Sicilian."
"The boy?"
"Si, Signore, the giovinotto. But he cannot speak Sicilian, and he has
never been in Sicily, poveretto!"
Gaspare spoke with an accent of pity in which there was almost a hint
of contempt.
"A rivederci, Signore," he added, pushing off the little boat.
"A rivederci, Gaspare."
Artois took the oars and paddled very gently out, keeping near to the
cliffs of the opposite shore.
"Even San Francesco looks weary to-day," he said, glancing across the
pool at the Saint on his pedestal. "I should not be surprised if, when
we return, we find that he has laid down his cross and is reclining
like the tired fishermen who come here in the night.


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