Gaspare was by his side, streaming with perspiration and looking violently excited.
"Gaspare!"
He stopped, cast a swift look round. Gaspare was alone.
"Signorino"—the boy was breathing hard—"the signora"—he gulped—"the signora has come back."
The time had come for acting. Maurice feigned surprise.
"The signora! What are you saying? The signora is in Africa."
"No, signore! She is here!"
"Here in San Felice!"
"No, signore! But she was in the train. I saw her at the window. She waved her hand to me and called out—when the train was on the bridge. I ran to the station; I ran fast, but when I got there the train had just gone. The signora has come back, and we are not there to meet her!"
His eyes were tragic. Evidently he felt that their absence was a matter of immense importance, was a catastrophe.