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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"A Spirit in Prison"

Were they on sea or land? She could not tell and did not ask.
The sailors doubtless knew, but she respected them and their duty too
much to speak to them, though she had given them a smile as she came
out to join them, and had received two admiring salutes in reply.
Gaspare, too, had smiled at her with a pleasure which swiftly
conquered the faint reproach in his eloquent eyes. He liked his
Padroncina's courage, liked the sailors of the Signor Marchese to see
it. He was soaked to the skin, but he, too, was enjoying the
adventure, a rare one on this summer sea, which had slept through so
many shining days and starry nights like a "bambino in dolce letargo."
To-night it was awake, and woke up others, Vere's nature and his.
"Where is the island, Gaspare?" cried Vere through the wind to him.
"Chi lo sa, Signorina.
He waved one hand to the blackness before them.
"It must be there."
She strained her eyes, then looked away towards where the land must
be. At a long distance across the leaping foam she saw one light.


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