"For what?"
"Who knows? There are strangers here."
"You mean,"—Blake's manner changed quickly—"there may be enemies?"
"If Cardi is in the mountains behind Martinello, may he not be here at Terranova? I am looking for a thick, black man. Aliandro has described him."
"Cardi would scarcely come to a wedding feast," said Blake, with a certain feeling of uneasiness.
"Scarcely," the overseer agreed.
"Have you seen anything?"
"Nothing."
"Where is Ippolito?"
Ricardo grunted. "Asleep in the stable. The imbecile is drunk."
To the American these Sicilian people looked very much alike. They were all a bit fantastic, and the scene reminded him of a fancy-dress ball where all the men represented brigands. Many of them were, or seemed to be, of truculent countenance; some wore piratical ear-rings, others had shawls wrapped about their heads as if for concealment. Any one of them might have been a brigand, for all he knew, and he saw how easy it would be for a handful of evil-intentioned persons to mingle unobserved with such a throng. Yet his better sense told him that he was silly to imagine such things. He had allowed old women's tales to upset his nerves.
A half-hour later, as he was watching the crowd from the loggiato, Margherita appeared, and he thought for a moment that she too might feel some vague foreboding, but her first words reassured him.
"My good friend, I missed you," she said, "but I had no chance of leaving until this moment." Coming close to him, she inquired: "Has something gone amiss? You have seemed sad all this evening. I do not know, but I fear your heart is—heavy."
He answered, unsteadily: "Perhaps it is. I—don't know."
"It is that certain woman."
"I dare say. I'm a great fool, you know."
"Don't say that. This is perhaps the only chance I shall have of seeing you alone."
"I'm glad," he broke out in a tone that startled her. "Glad for you. I have tried not to be a death's-head at your feast, but it has been a struggle."
"We women see things. Martel, boy that he is, does not suspect, and yet I, who have known you so short a time, have read your secret. It is our happiness which makes you sad."
"No, no. I'm not that sort. I share your happiness. I want it to continue."
"If I had one wish it would be that she might care for you as I care for Martel. And who knows? Perhaps she may. You say it is impossible, yet life is full of blind ways and unseen turnings. Somehow I feel that she will."
"You are very good," he managed to say. Then yielding to a sudden impulse, he took her hand and kissed it. A moment later she left him, but the touch of her cool flesh against his lips remained an unforgetable impression.
Savigno appeared, yawning prodigiously.
"Dio!" he exclaimed with a grimace. "Those cousins of hers are deadly dull; I do not blame you for escaping. And the judge, and the notary's wife, and that village doctor! Colonel Neri is a good chap, notwithstanding his mustache in which he takes so much pride. He nurses it like a child, and yet it is older than I. Poor friend of mine, you are a martyr, thus to endure for me."
"It's tremendously interesting, particularly this part out here," Norvin asserted. "I saw them dancing what I took to be the tarantella a moment ago. Those peasant boys are like leaping fauns."
"Yes, and they will continue to dance for hours yet. I fear the Donna Teresa will not retire at her usual hour. What a day it has been! It is fine to give people happiness. That is one of my new discoveries."
"Remember to-morrow."
"Believe me, I think of nothing else. That is why we must be going soon. We cannot wait even for the fireworks, as much as I would like to. It is a long road to Martinello and we must be up early in the morning. You do not object?"
"On the contrary, I was about to bear you off in spite of yourself."
"Then I will have Ippolito fetch the horses."
"Ippolito has been demonstrating the mastery of wine over matter. He is asleep in the manger."
"Drunk? Oh, the idiot! He has the appetite of a shark, but the belly of a herring. I ought to warm his soles with a cane," declared Savigno, angrily.
"Don't be too hard on him. I suspect Lucrezia would not listen to his suit, poor chap. He's sick from unrequited passion."
"Very well, we will leave him to sleep it off. I couldn't be harsh with him at this time. And now we had best begin presenting our good-nights, although I hate to go."
V
WHAT WAITED AT THE ROADSIDE
To avoid the dampening effect of an early departure the three men rode out quietly from the courtyard at the rear of the house, leaving the merrymakers to their fun.
"So, this is our last ride together," Norvin said, as they left the valley and began the long ascent of the mountain that lay between them and Martinello.
"Yes. Henceforth we spare our horses. You see tomorrow we will take the morning train. Half of San Sebastiano will accompany us, too, and everybody will be dressed in his finest. Ricardo here, for instance, will wear his new brown suit—a glorious affair. Eh, Ricardo?"
"It would be as well to refrain from speaking," said the overseer, gruffly. "The road is dark. Who knows what may be waiting?"
"Nonsense! Be not always a bear. We are three armed men. I fancy Narcone, nay, even our dreadful Cardi himself, would scarcely dare molest us."
Ferara merely grunted and continued to hold his place abreast of his employer. Norvin observed that he carried his rifle across his saddle-bow, and involuntarily shifted the strap of his own weapon so that it might be ready in case of an emergency. He had rebelled, somewhat, at carrying a firearm, but Martel, after making a clean breast of his troubles that first morning, had insisted, and the American had yielded even though he felt ridiculous.
The sky was moonless to-night but crowded with stars which gave light enough so that the riders were able to follow the road without difficulty, although the shadows on either side were dense. The air was sweet, and so still that the sounds of revelry from Terranova were plainly audible. Strains of music floated up the hillside, the shouts of the master of ceremonies came distinctly as he issued his commands for a country dance. The many lights within the grounds shone cloudily among the tree-tops far below, like the effulgence from some well-lit city hidden behind a hill, now disappearing for a time, now shining out again as the road pursued its meanderings. The hurried footfalls of the horses thudded steadily in the soft dust; the saddles creaked with that music which lulls a horseman like a song.
"Youth! Youth! What a glorious thing it is!" exclaimed Martel after a fruitless attempt to hold his tongue. "Ricardo would have us go prowling like robbers when our hearts are singing loud enough for all the mountainside to hear. There is no evil in the world to-night, for the world is in love; to-morrow it bursts into happiness! And I am king over it all!"
"I shall be glad to be rid of you, just the same," grumbled the old man.
"Ricardo alone has fears, but he was never young. Think you that the gods would permit my wedding-day to be marred? Bah! One can see evil before it comes; it casts a shadow; it has a chilling breath which any one with sensibilities can feel. As for me, I see the future as clearly as if it were spread out before me in the sunshine, and there is no misfortune