"I was telling her yesterday that we should go through Maori," she explained. "I went there years ago with Countess Filota."
"What has that to do with the crocodile?"
"Tell him, Marta," Pappina begged. "He'll like the story."
"Once upon a time, so the story goes, there lived an immense crocodile in the cave near Maori. It was said and believed that he who dared kill the crocodile would immediately turn into a fierce dragon. People preferred to chance being eaten rather than to kill him at such a risk. He was said to feed only upon Christians."
"Why didn't he eat the bad people?" asked the child.
Guiseppe laughed.
"Just as you were going to eat me a few minutes ago," he said, "because I let you go in the water! Well, we may as well tramp along. We've lots of places to go and plenty of rough roads to travel. No matter where we go, there'll be people to amuse. The more money we get the sooner we'll go to America. Come, Marta; come, Pappina. Where are the puppets? Here's the whole show now, and all of us are happy—eh, bambina?"
Marta hastily tied up the few effects into a small, neat bundle. Guiseppe picked up the Punchinellos, while Pappina, as usual, had only her tambourine.
They sauntered contentedly along up the rising road, across the bridge over the valley, reaching Vietri at sunset. There, under one of the beautiful terraces that abound on this coast, they remained over night.
Pappina was the first to awaken. For some time she took pleasure in watching the many colors of the water and the boats coming and going. She saw in the distance a throng of early bathers—men and women swimming in the clear bright bay, or basking on the beach in the early morning sun. The bright hues of the bathing–suits first attracted Pappina's attention. As soon as she saw the gay colors she wished to go and watch the bathers.