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 'Ah, you will drink indeed, one day; drink so deep that you will drown!'

Joconda was always anxious and troubled lest anyhow she had missed the way, and done less than she might in the fulfilling of Saturnino's trust. The man was but a galley-slave, a thief, a murderer; but Joconda was faithful to him as though he had been a king.

She was always anxious. The Mastarna, of whom there were none living save this child and the galley-slave, had all died by violent deaths, the deaths of hunters, of smugglers, or of brigands; of Serapia's people she knew nothing, but report had spoken of that dead woman as of a beautiful light voluptuous fool. From both sides there was dangerous heritage—dark precedent. The old woman, with her tender conscience and her upright soul, was always harassed with fear.

Musa had a great skill at rythmical improvisations.

Silent at other times, with a silence that was in strong contrast with the loquacity of those around her, she would at times, when the fit fell on her, recite in the terza rima or the more difficult ottavo, poems of her own