Antonino shrugged his shoulders. The girl approached with hasty steps, looking straight before her. "Good day! La Rabbiata!" cried some of the young sailors. They might indeed have said more if the proximity of their padre had not kept them a little in order, for the short defiant manner with which the girl received their greetings seemed to irritate them vastly. "Good day, Lauretta!" cried the padre, "how goes it with you? Do you want to go over to Capri with us?" "If you will permit me, padre." "You must ask Antonino there. He is the patron of the boat. Every one is master of his own, and God of us all." "Here is a half Carolus," said Lauretta, without looking at the young boatman, "can I go over for it?" "You may want it more than I;" murmured Antonino, and moved some baskets filled with oranges on one side to make room. He was going to sell them at Capri, for the rocky islet does not produce enough for its numerous visitors. "I will not go with you for nothing." said the girl; and the dark eyebrows drew together. "Come, my child." said the padre, "he is an honest young fellow, and does not want to get rich from your poverty; there--step in," and he reached her his hand, "and seat yourself near me. See there! He has spread his jacket for you that you may sit the softer. He was not half so thoughtful of me. But young blood! young blood! It is always so! They will take more care of one little girl, then of ten holy fathers." "Well, well! you need not make any excuses, 'Tonino; it is God's law that like should cling to like." In the mean time, Lauretta had slipped into the boat, and seated herself, first pushing the jacket on one side without saying a word. The young fisherman let it be, and muttered something between his teeth. Then he pushed stoutly against the beach, and the little bark flew lightly out into the bay. "What have you got in your bundle?" asked the padre, as they swept over the sea, just beginning to be freckled with the first sunbeams. "Thread, silk, and a little loaf, padre, I am going to sell the silk to a woman in Capri, who makes ribbons, and the thread to another." "Did you spin it yourself?" "Yes, padre." "If I remember rightly, you have learned to weave ribbons too?" "Yes, padre, but my mother is so much worse, that I cannot leave her for long at a time; and we are too poor to buy a loom." "Much worse! Dear, dear, when I saw her at Easter, she was sitting up." "The spring is always the worst time for her. Since we had the great storm and the earthquake, she has been obliged to keep her bed from pain." "Don't weary of prayers and supplications to the Holy Virgin, my child,--she alone can help her. And be good and industrious, that your prayers may be heard." After a pause. "As you came across the beach, they called after you, 'Good day, La Rabbiata.' Why do they call you so? It is not a pretty name for a Christian girl, who ought to be humble and gentle."