"Yes."
"I know. She has gone to Africa."
He stared at Maurice while he spoke, with small, twinkling eyes, round which was a minute and intricate web of wrinkles, and again Maurice felt almost—or was it quite?—ashamed. What were these Sicilians thinking of him?
"The signora will be back almost directly," he said. "Is this your daughter?"
"Yes, Maddalena. Bring a chair for the signore, Maddalena."
Maddalena obeyed. There was a slight flush on her face and she did not look at Maurice. Gaspare stood pulling gently at the stretched-out net, and smiling. That he enjoyed the mild deceit of the situation was evident. Maurice, too, felt amused and quite at his ease now. His sensation of shame had fleeted away, leaving only a conviction that Hermione's absence gave him a right to snatch all the pleasure he could from the hands of the passing hour.
He drew out his cigar-case and offered it to Salvatore.
"One day I want to come fishing with you if you'll take me," he said.
Salvatore looked eager. A prospect of money floated before him:
"I can show you fine sport, signore," he answered, taking one of the long Havanas and examining it with almost voluptuous interest as he turned it round and round in his salty, brown fingers. "But you should come out at dawn, and it is far from the mountain to the sea."