"Why not?"
"Because, of course, I shall come to the station to meet you. That day will be a festa."
She said nothing more. Her heart was very full, and of conflicting feelings and of voices that spoke in contradiction one of another. One or two of these voices she longed to hush to silence, but they were persistent. Then she tried not to listen to what they were saying. But they were pitilessly distinct.
Dinner was soon over, and Gaspare came to clear away. His face was very grave, even troubled. He did not like this abrupt departure of his padrona.
"You will come back, signora?" he said, as he drew away the cloth and prepared to fold up the table and carry it in-doors.
Hermione managed to laugh.
"Why, of course, Gaspare! Did you think I was going away forever?"
"Africa is a long way off."
"Only nine hours from Trapani. I may be back very soon. Will you forget me?"
"Did I forget my padrona when she was in England?" the boy replied, his expressive face suddenly hardening and his great eyes glittering with sullen fires.