"Yes, why not?"
"He wished me to stay with you. He said: 'Stay with the padrona, Gaspare. She will be all alone.'"
"Did he? Well, Gaspare, it is not your fault. But I never thought it was. You know that."
She had heard in his voice that he was hurt.
"Come! We must go on!"
Her fear was now tangible. It had a definite form, and with every moment it grew greater in the night, towering over her, encompassing her about. For she had hoped to meet Maurice coming up the ravine, and, with each moment that went by, her hope of hearing his footstep decreased, her conviction that something untoward must have occurred grew more solid. Only once was her terror abated. When they were not far from the mouth of the ravine Gaspare suddenly seized her arm from behind.
"Gaspare! What is it?" she said, startled.
He held up one hand.
"Zitta!" he whispered.
Hermione listened, holding her breath. It was a silent night, windless and calm. The trees had no voices, the watercourse was dry, no longer musical with the falling stream. Even the sea was dumb, or, if it were not, murmured so softly that these two could not hear it where they stood. And now, in this dark silence, they heard a faint sound. It was surely a foot-fall upon stones. Yes, it was.