"And look before you. Don't look down at the sea."
"Va bene."
A moment, and they were across. Maurice blew out his breath.
"By Jove!" he said, in English.
He sat down on the grass, put his hand on his knees, and looked back at the rock and at the precipices.
"I'm glad I can do that!" he said.
Something within him was revelling, was dancing a tarantella as the sun came up, lifting its blood-red rim above the sea-line in the east. He looked over the trees.
"Maddalena saw us!" he cried.
He had caught sight of her among the olive-trees watching them, with her two hands held flat against her breast.
"Addio, Maddalena!"