As Hermione got out Gaspare bent to kiss her hand.
“Benedicite!” he murmured.
And, as she pressed his hand with both of hers, she answered:
“Benedicite!”
That night, not very late, but when darkness had fallen over the sea, Hermione said to Vere:
“I am going out for a little, Vere.”
“Yes, Madre.”
The child put her arms round her mother and kissed her. Hermione tenderly returned the kiss, looked at Artois, and went out.
She made her way to the brow of the island, and stood still for a while, drinking in the soft wind that blew to her from Ischia. Then she descended to the bridge and looked down into the Pool of San Francesco.
The Saint’s light was burning steadily. She watched it for a moment, and while she watched it she presently heard beneath her a boy’s voice singing softly the song of Mergellina: