Part 53 (1/2)
”No, you are a siren to-day, the siren I once fancied you might be.”
”A siren, signorino? What is that?”
”An enchantress of the sea with a voice that makes men--that makes men feel they cannot go, they cannot leave it.”
Maddalena lifted the roses a little higher to hide her face, but Maurice saw that her eyes were still smiling, and it seemed to him that she looked even more radiantly happy than when she had taken his hands to spring down to the beach.
Now Salvatore came up in his glory of a dark-blue suit, with a gay s.h.i.+rt of pink-and-white striped cotton, fastened at the throat with long, pink strings that had ta.s.selled ends, a scarlet bow-tie with a bra.s.s anchor and the Italian flag thrust through it, yellow shoes, and a black hat, placed well over the left ear. Upon the forefinger of his left hand he displayed a thick snake-ring of tarnished metal, and he had a large, overblown rose in his b.u.t.ton-hole. His mustaches had been carefully waxed, his hair cropped, and his hawklike, subtle, and yet violent face well washed for the great occasion. With bold familiarity he seized Maurice's hand.
”Buon giorno, signore. Come sta lei?”
”Benissimo.”
”And Maddalena, signore? What do you think of Maddalena?”
He looked at his girl with a certain pride, and then back at Maurice searchingly.
”Maddalena is beautiful to-day,” Maurice answered, quickly. He did not want to discuss her with her father, whom he longed to be rid of, whom he meant to get rid of if possible at the fair. Surely it would be easy to give him the slip there. He would be drinking with his companions, other fishermen and contadini, or playing cards, or--yes, that was an idea!
”Salvatore!” Maurice exclaimed, catching hold of the fisherman's arm.
”Signore?”
”There'll be donkeys at the fair, eh?”
”Donkeys--per Dio! Why, last year there were over sixty, and--”
”And isn't there a donkey auction sometimes, towards the end of the day, when they go cheap?”
”Si, signore! Si, signore!”
The fisherman's greedy little eyes were fixed on Maurice with keen interrogation.
”Don't let us forget that,” Maurice said, returning his gaze. ”You're a good judge of a donkey?”
Salvatore laughed.
”Per Bacco! There won't be a man at San Felice that can beat me at that!”
”Then perhaps you can do something for me. Perhaps you can buy me a donkey. Didn't I speak of it before?”
”Si, signore. For the signora to ride when she comes back from Africa?”
He smiled.
”For a lady to ride,” Maurice answered, looking at Maddalena.
Salvatore made a clicking noise with his tongue, a noise that suggested eating. Then he spat vigorously and took from his jacket-pocket a long, black cigar. This was evidently going to be a great day for him.
”Avanti, signorino! Avanti!”
Gaspare was shouting and waving his hat frantically from the road.