The sun was still high over Procida when they reached the marina. Lauretta shook her gown, now nearly dried, and sprang on shore. The old spinning woman who had seen them start in the morning stood again on her roof. "What is the matter with your hand, 'Tonino?" she called down to him. "Jesus! the boat is swimming in blood!"
"'Tis nothing, Commare," answered the young man; "I tore it on a nail that stuck out too far. It will be well by to-morrow. The blood is only near the hand, and that makes it look worse than it is."
"I will come and put some herbs upon it, Comparello. Wait, I will be down with you directly."
"Don't trouble yourself, Commare; it is all over now and to-morrow it will be gone and forgotten. I have a good skin that soon grows over a wound."
"Addio!" said Lauretta, turning towards the path that led up from the beach.
"Good night," called the fisherman after her, without looking towards her. Then he took his tackle out of the boat, and his baskets, and strode up the narrow stone steps to his hut.
CHAPTER III.
There was no one but himself in the two rooms, through which he now paced to and fro. Through the unglazed windows, only closed by wooden shutters, the wind blew in still more refreshingly than on the calm sea, and the solitude pleased him. He paused before the little picture of the Virgin, and gazed thoughtfully at the silver paper star-glory pasted around it. Yet he thought not of prayer. For what should he pray now, when he had nothing more to hope for!
And to-day the sun seemed to stand still.
He longed for night, for he was weary, and the loss of blood had affected him more than he would confess. He felt a violent pain in his hand, seated himself on a stool, and loosened the bandage. The repressed blood sprang forwards again, and his hand was much swollen around the wound. He washed it carefully, and held it long in the cold water. When he withdrew it he could plainly see the marks of Lauretta's teeth. "She was right," he said to himself; "I was a brute and deserved no better. I will send her back her handkerchief to-morrow morning by Giuseppe, for me shall she never see again." He washed the handkerchief carefully, and spread it out in the sun, after he had bound up his maimed limb again as well as he could with his left hand and his teeth. Then he threw himself upon his bed and closed his eyes.