The Worcester spy. [volume] (Worcester, Mass.) 1898-1904, 1899-10-22

Jews cannot live in Malta. ut is ter
rible," I said, and old Maria, only too
glad of an audience, opened her heart
to me.
Paolina would bring with her a table
bed, some chairs (''not many" said
! Maria), and a chest of drawers, be-
sides a few dollars But there was a
great chest, or cassone and a clock
| Qrom the time of the knights, Maria
| declareD which these Jews would not
| give UP. On their side, 'CenZini's peo-
| pie would not receive Paolina without
them, or a greatly increased number
OF dollars; and SO the match was likely
never 10 be accomplished, and Maria
never to get the fee promised for a
successful bargain.
IS tilted my chair back against the
wall CT the house, I laughed, l daresay
sardonically enough.
Sweetheart, am going away,
l sigh that I take you not with me, 4"
All for the sake of an old chest and a
clock that very likely did not keep half
such good time as the sunset-gun.
And what does 'Cenzini say to all
this?' I asked.
"Say?" Maria did not know what he
said. What had he to do with it? He
was a mere boy, one might say, living
in his fathers home. 1t was the fam
lily that must decide whether they
would receive little Paolina of the
House Of Bay, and without that cas-
some and the big clock, never.
1 avoided commenting upon the Gus
toms of the island as thus demonstrat-
ed and presently yawning, wished old
Maria "Buona sera' and went UP to
my ROOM
1t was hot that night-hot even for
late summer in Malta-breathlessly hot,
the dark water below lie smooth as pol
ished steel-only broken where the
scattering rush of small fry was fol-
lowed by the arched back of plunging
porpoise. Then away towards the
point came the phosphorescent CLEAN
of water cleft by the oar-blades, and
in the hush of the night l could hear
the regular rocking of oars in the row.
locks, and from some back street the
high notes of two shrill mandolins with
guitar accompaniment. Later, even
this died away. and the hot painting
night was my own.
The water below, just tapping the
rocks, began to whisper to me mys-
teriously of it's depth and GOODNESS, and
invited me to go down, as l often did,
for u long lonely swim under the quiet
stars. Two mosquitoes, which had
somehow found their way under my
mosquito curtains, trumpeted shrill
elfish warnings that they were ready
for battle and thirsting for blood
listened, and then slid down the stair,
and a minute later was rolling lazily
in 20 feet of dark water, that broke into
a ghostly pale sparkle at every stroke
made. 1 slipped away slowly into
the middle of the Grand harbor itself,
and then, turning, came back into the
deep water that met the opposite shore
of the bav.
If the Grand harbor had any mys-
terry, such a night and time as this
might fifty reveal it. In such times the
unknown dwellers of the deep open
sea might wander in to explore. In
any little cove one might find some
strange beast prone upon the shadowy
rocks, or. who could tell? glimpse a
startled mermaid or be clasped by one
of those sirens who sang uselessly to
Ulysses ages ago. l glided on without
noise, half-laughlingly encouraging
these idle fancies, when l heard low
voices within a few yards of me, and
it was easy to imagine for a moment
that the old stories were no dreams
after all, and that l had CHANGED upon
lovers hardly mortal
The dreamy night and the childish
fancies which / had been weaving for
the last half hour are my only poor ex-
cuse for not slipping away at once. AS
it was l overhead tho latter part of a