"Ecco, Donna Maddalena! Ecco, signorino!"

He distributed his purchases, keeping two for himself. These last he very

carefully and solemnly folded up and bestowed in the inner pocket of his

jacket, which contained a leather portfolio, given to him by Maurice to

carry his money in.

"Ecco!" he said, once more, as he buttoned the flap of the pocket as a

precaution against thieves.

And with that final exclamation he dismissed all serious thoughts.

"Mangiamo, signorino!" he said. "Ora basta!"

And they went forth into the sunshine. Salvatore was talking to some

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fishermen from Catania upon the steps. They cast curious glances at

Maurice as he came out with Maddalena, and, when Salvatore went off with

his daughter and the forestiere, they laughed among themselves and

exchanged some remarks that were evidently merry. But Maurice did not

heed them. He was not a self-conscious man. And Maddalena was far too

happy to suppose that any one could be saying nasty things about her.

"Where are we going to eat?" asked Maurice.

"This way, this way, signorino!" replied Gaspare, elbowing a passage

through the crowd. "You must follow me. I know where to go. I have many

friends here."

The truth of this statement was speedily made manifest. Almost every

third person they met saluted Gaspare, some kissing him upon both cheeks,

others grasping his hand, others taking him familiarly by the arm. Among

the last was a tall boy with jet-black, curly hair and a long, pale face,

whom Gaspare promptly presented to his padrone, by the name of Amedeo

Buccini.

"Amedeo is a parrucchiere, signorino," he said, "and my compare, and the

best dancer in San Felice. May he eat with us?"

"Of course."

Gaspare informed Amedeo, who took off his hat, held it in his hand, and

smiled all over his face with pleasure.

"Yes, Gaspare is my compare, signore," he affirmed. "Compare, compare,

compareddu"--he glanced at Gaspare, who joined in with him: "Compare, compare, compareddu,

Io ti voglio molto bene,

Mangiamo sempre insieme--

Mangiamo carne e riso

E andiamo in Paradiso!"

"Carne e riso--si!" cried Maurice, laughing. "But Paradise! Must you go

to Paradise directly afterwards, before the dancing and before the

procession and before the fireworks?"

"No, signore," said Gaspare. "When we are very old, when we cannot dance

any more--non è vero, Amedeo?--then we will go to Paradiso."

"Yes," agreed the tall boy, quite seriously, "then we will go to

Paradiso."




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