"Truly, Signor. Palermo is full of visitors from all parts of the island on purpose to hear her."
"At what time?"
"At nine o'clock, Signor, in the concert hall. If the Signor desires to hear her he should go early, for to-night is the only chance. She sings but once, and it is for the poor. They say that she has come to the Villa Fiolesse on the hill, to be away from the world, to rest."
The Englishman descended the stairs and went slowly back to his seat. He had only one thought. In a few hours' time he would see her again. It would be Paradise!
He reached his table and sat down. The seat opposite to him was empty. The Sicilian had gone.
CHAPTER III
"BETTER THOU WERT DEAD BEFORE ME"
On the brow of the Hill Fiolesse, at a sharp angle in the white dusty road, a man and woman stood talking. On one side of them was a grove of flowering magnolias, and on the other a high, closely-trimmed hedge skirted the grounds of the Villa Fiolesse. There was not another soul in sight, but, as though the place were not secure enough from interruption, the girl, every now and then, glanced half fearfully around her, and more than once paused in the middle of a sentence to listen. At last her fears escaped from her lips.
"Leonardo, I wish that you had not come!" she cried. "What is the good of it? I shall have no rest till I know that you are beyond the sea again."