"Well, a man must do something, must get on, and if I lived always here I should do nothing but enjoy myself."
He was silent for a minute. Then he said:
"And that's all I want to do, just to enjoy myself here in the sun."
"Are you happy here, signorino?"
"Yes, tremendously happy."
"Why?"
"Why—because it's Sicily here! Aren't you happy?"
"I don't know, signorino."
She said it with simplicity and looked at him almost as if she were inquiring of him whether she were happy or not. That look tempted him.
"Don't you know whether you are happy to-night?" he asked, putting an emphasis on the last word, and looking at her more steadily, almost cruelly.