"Speranza mia, non piangere,
E il marinar fedele,
Vedrai tornar dall' Africa
Tra un anno queste vele——"
bawled the little boy from Naples. Gaspare seized the clock, turned a handle, lifted his hand in a reverent gesture bespeaking attention; there was a faint whirr, and then, sure enough, the tune of the "Tre Colori" was tinkled blithely forth.
"Ecco!" repeated Gaspare, triumphantly.
"Mamma mia!" murmured Maddalena, almost exhausted with the magic of the fair.
"It's wonderful!" said Maurice.
He, too, was a little tired, but not in body.
Gaspare wound the clock again, and again the tune was trilled forth, competing sturdily with the giant noises of the fair, a little voice that made itself audible by its clearness and precision.
"Ecco!" repeated Gaspare. "Will not the signora be happy when she sees what I have brought her from the fair?"
He sighed from sheer delight in his possession and the thought of his padrona's joy and wonder in it.
"Mangiamo?" he added, descending from heavenly delights to earthly necessities.