grown older also, and few even gave a thought to it. There had been wars and other heroes since then; he was at the galleys at Gorgona; but the Maremma had ceased to talk of him except when, now and then, round a fire in the forests, or becalmed out at sea, a charcoal burner or a coral fisher would say, 'Aïe! he was a man!—that was in the good time; we have no such men now, we are all afraid.'
For as the monotonous years rolled on, all alike, exactly alike, bringing the drouth of summer and the storms of winter over the low sea-shore, twelve years had drifted away like twelve hours, and the child was fourteen years old before Joconda could have counted twelve on her fingers; so she said, one day, looking up at the lithe figure between her and the sunshine.
'Holy Mary, you will be a woman before one knows it!' she cried, with a pang at her heart, for she was now very old herself, and when she was gone—who could tell?
'A woman!' repeated the girl: it did not seem a word that suited her.
'Yes, you are not a boy,' said Joconda testily. 'So a woman you will be, worse
