A voice rose up from the sea singing a sad little song. Vere turned towards the sea. All her body relaxed. The voice passed on. The sad little song passed under the cliff, to the Saint’s Pool and the lee of the island.
“Ah, Monsieur Emile,” she said, “why don’t you tell me?”
She swayed. He put his arm quickly behind her.
“No, no! It’s all right. That was Ruffo!”
And she smiled.
At that moment Artois longed to tell her the truth. To do so would surely be to do something that was beautiful. But he dared not—he had no right.
A bell rang in the house, loudly, persistently, tearing its silence. Gaspare turned angrily from the rail, with an expression of apprehension on his face.
Giulia was summoning the household to dinner.
“Perhaps—perhaps Madre will come down,” Vere whispered.
Gaspare passed them and went into the house quickly. They knew he had gone to see if his Padrona was coming. Moved by a mutual instinct, they stayed where they were till he should come to them again.