Like an automaton Jacopo walked along the shore between the guilty pair; he mechanically answered questions, and when Manuelita offered her lips for a kiss after being helped into the boat, he had sufficient power over himself to touch with his lips the false mouth.
The boat glided through the blue waves of the ocean; Manuelita's dark curls played with the wind, and Parlo was intoxicated with joy as he looked at her. Jacopo sat at the rudder and looked inquiringly at a small dark cloud which appeared on the horizon some distance off and quickly neared them.
The Corsican allowed the boat to go with full sail before the wind, and soon nothing but the sky and water could be seen.
Parlo and Manuelita, engaged with each other, did not perceive the change in the weather, and when they heard in the distance a hollow, rolling sound they quickly arose to their feet.
Manuelita trembled, and lifting her beautiful eyes to Jacopo she inquired anxiously:
"Jacopo, is there a storm coming on?"
"Pah," replied the Corsican reassuringly, as he threw his net into the sea; "it is of no importance."
Jacopo was an experienced seaman; when he said the storm did not signify, you could depend on it that he was right. Manuelita saw that Jacopo was quite unconcerned, and looking at the roaring, rising waves she again grew calm and again watched Parlo. He also seemed careless; he laughed and joked, and, behind Jacopo's back, stole many a kiss from his beloved.
A bright flash of lightning came down; the thunder rolled, and the black, cloudy wall rose ever higher on the blue horizon. Jacopo, however, did not mind it; he hummed a Corsican fisher-song and dipped his net into the sea. That he always drew it out empty did not trouble him; from time to time he threw unnoticed a glance at the others and gnashed his teeth.
Suddenly a heavy gale caught the foresail and tore it to shreds; the mainsail was also destroyed, then the foresail fell to the deck.