"Buon giorno, Gaspare."
"Buon giorno, Donna Maddalena."
Then they stood there for a moment in silence. Maurice was the first to speak again.
"But why did you come here?" he said. "How did you know?"
Already the sparkle of merriment had dropped out of Gaspare's face as the feeling of jealousy, of not having been completely trusted, returned to his mind.
"Did not the signore wish me to know?" he said, almost gruffly, with a sort of sullen violence. "I am sorry."
Maurice touched the back of his hand, giving it a gentle, half-humorous slap.
"Don't be an ass, Gaspare. But how could you guess where I had gone?"
"Where did you go before, signore, when you could not sleep?"
At this thrust Maurice imitated Maddalena and reddened slightly. It seemed to him as if he had been living under glass while he had fancied himself enclosed in rock that was impenetrable by human eyes. He tried to laugh away his slight confusion.