But he said
nothing. At that moment a fisherman ran down the steps from the
village, and came over the sand to greet them.
"Good-bye, Gaspare," she said. "Don't wait, of course. Giovanni can
row me back."
The fisherman smiled, but Gaspare said:
"I can come for you, Signora. You will not be very long, will you? You
will be back for colazione?"
"Oh yes, I suppose so."
"I will come for you, Signora."
Again she looked at him, and felt his deep loyalty to her, his strong
and almost doglike affection. And, feeling them, she was seized once
more by fear. The thing Gaspare hid from her must be something
terrible.
"Thank you, Gaspare."
"A rivederci, Signora."
Was there not a sound of pleading in his voice, a longing to retain
her? She would not heed it. But she gave him a very gentle look as she
turned to walk up the hill.
At the top, by the Trattoria del Giardinetto, she had to wait for
several minutes before the tram came. She remembered her solitary
dinner there on the evening when she had gone to the Scoglio di Frisio
to look at the visitor's book.
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