"You'll go to-night?" she said.
"D'you mind if I do?"
"Mind? No. I want you to go. I want you to revel in this happy time, this splendid, innocent, golden time. And to-morrow we'll watch for you, Lucrezia and I, watch for you down there on the path. But—you'll bring us some of the fish, Maurice? You won't forget us?"
"Forget you!" he said. "You shall have all—"
"No, no. Only the little fish, the babies that Carmela rejects from the frittura."
"I'll go into the sea with Gaspare," said Maurice.
"I'm sure you will, and farther out even than he does."
"Ah, he'll never allow that. He'd swim to Africa first!"
That night, at twenty-one o'clock, Hermione and Lucrezia stood under the arch, and watched Maurice and Gaspare springing down the mountain-side as if in seven-leagued boots. Soon they disappeared into the darkness of the ravine, but for some time their loud voices could be heard singing lustily:
"Ciao, ciao, ciao,
Morettina bella ciao,
Prima di partire
Un bacio ti voglio da';
Un bacio al papà,
Un bacio alla mammà,
Cinquanta alla mia fidanzata,
Che vado a far solda'."