"It's Sebastiano, signora."
The ceramella droned on, moving slowly with its player on the hidden path beneath the olive-trees.
A second pistol-shot rang out sharply.
"Go down and meet him, Lucrezia."
"May I—may I, really, signora?"
"Yes; go quickly."
Lucrezia bent down and kissed her padrona's hand.
"Bacio la mano, bacio la mano a Lei!"
Then, bareheaded, she went out from the awning into the glare of the sunshine, passed through the ruined archway, and disappeared among the rocks. She had gone to her music. Hermione stayed to listen to hers, the crack of the pistol up there near the blue sky.
Sebastiano was playing the tune she loved, the "Pastorale," but to-day she did not heed it. Indeed, now that she was left alone she was not conscious that she heard it. Her heart was on the hill-top near the blue.