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They understood
each other. Even her mother had said that they seemed to be in
sympathy. And that was true. Difference of rank need not, indeed
cannot, destroy the magic chain if it exists, cannot prevent its links
from being forged. She knew that her mother was in sympathy with
Gaspare, and Gaspare with her mother. So there was no reason why she
should not be in sympathy with Ruffo.
If he were here to-night she would begin at once to talk to him about
the sea. But of course he would never come at night to the islet.
Vere knew that the Neapolitan fishermen usually keep each to his own
special branch of the common profession. By this time of night, no
doubt, Ruffo was in his home at the Mergellina, sitting in the midst
of his family, or was strolling with lively companions of his own age,
or, perhaps, was fast asleep in bed.
Vere felt that it would be horrible to go to bed on such a night, to
shut herself in from the moon and the sea. The fishermen who slept in
the shelter of the Saint's Pool were enviable.


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