Crazy Radio eBooks

And
he heard her voice, very soft, with a strange depth and stillness in
it, saying those words: "He was the deathless boy."
Of course! How could he have forgotten? They had been said of Maurice
Delarey. And now idly, strangely, he had recalled them as he thought
of Ruffo's young and careless attitude by the table of the ristorante
that afternoon.
The waiter, coming presently to bring the French Signore the plate of
oysters from Fusaro, which he had ordered as the prelude to his
dinner, was surprised by the deep gravity of his face, and said:
"Don't you like 'A Mergellina,' Signore? We are all mad about it. And
it won the first prize at last year's festa of Piedigrotta."
"Comment donc?" exclaimed Artois, as if startled. "What?--no--yes. I
like it. It's a capital song. Lemon? That's right--and red pepper. Va
bene!"
And he bent over his plate rather hurriedly and began to eat.
The piano-organ and the singing voice died away down the hill, going
towards Mergellina.
But the effect, curious and surely unreasonable, of the song remained.


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