She stood by the table with the pen in her hand.
"I suppose—I suppose he must be buried in the Campo Santo?" she said.
"Do you wish to convey the body to England, signora?"
"Oh no. He loved Sicily. He wished to stay always here, I think, although—"
She broke off.
"I could never take him away from Sicily. But there is a place here—under the oak-trees. He was very fond of it."
Gaspare began to sob, then controlled himself with a desperate effort, turned round and stood with his face to the wall.
"I suppose, if I could buy a piece of land there, it could not be permitted—?"
She looked at the Pretore.
"I am very sorry, signora, such a thing could not possibly be allowed. If the body is buried here it must be in the Campo Santo."