And once more his Padrona was alone.
Far away from Sicily, from his "Paese," among the great woods of the
Abetone he received for the first time into his untutored arms his
Padroncina. His Padrone was gone from him forever. But once more, as
he would have expressed it to a Sicilian comrade, they were "in
three." And still another period began.
And now that period was ended.
As Gaspare rowed slowly on towards the island, in his simple and yet
shrewd way he was pondering on life, on its irresistible movement, on
its changes, its alternations of grief and joy, loneliness and
companionship. He was silently reviewing the combined fates of his
Padrona and himself.
Behind him for a long while there was silence. But when the boat was
abreast of the sloping gardens of Posilipo Artois spoke at last.
"Hermione!" he said.
"Yes," she answered.
"Do you remember that evening when I met you on the sea?"
"After I had been to Frisio's? Yes I remember it."
"You had been reading what I wrote in the wonderful book.
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