Artois felt a pang of anxiety, of regret. He wished he had been there before the fisherman had returned. As he got out of the boat he said:
"Did Salvatore know the signore well?"
"Si, signore. The poor signore used to go out fishing with Salvatore. They say in the village that he gave Salvatore much money."
"The signore was generous to every one."
"Si, signore. But he did not give donkeys to every one."
"Donkeys? What do you mean, Giuseppe?"
"He gave Salvatore a donkey, a fine donkey. He bought it at the fair of San Felice."
Artois said no more. Slowly, for he was still very weak, and the heat was becoming fierce as the morning wore on, he walked up the steep path and came to the plateau before the Casa delle Sirene.
A group of people stood there: the Pretore, the Cancelliere, the Maresciallo, Gaspare, and Salvatore. They seemed to be in strong conversation, but directly Artois appeared there was a silence, and they all turned and stared at him as if in wonder. Then Gaspare came forward and took off his hat.
The boy looked haggard with grief, and angry and obstinate, desperately obstinate.