“I am coming, Signora.”
“I am waiting for you.”
“A moment, Signora!”
Yes, his voice was reluctant; but he went at once towards the house and disappeared. Directly afterwards she heard the windows being shut and barred, then a step coming rather slowly up the staircase.
“Che vuole, Signora?”
How many times she had heard that phrase from Gaspare’s lips? How many times in reply she had expressed some simple desire! To-night she found a difficulty in answering that blunt question. There was so much that she wished, wanted—wide and terrible want filled her heart.
“Che vuole?” he repeated.
As she heard it a second time, suddenly Hermione knew that for the moment she was entirely dominated by Ruffo and that, which concerned, which was connected with him. The fisher-boy had assumed an abrupt and vast importance in her life.
“Gaspare,” she said, “you know me pretty well by this time, don’t you?”
“Know you, Signora! Of course I know you!” He gazed at her, then added, “Who should know you, Signora, if I do not?”