Finding that
the Captain did not appear at the time he announced and that the
crowd was getting angry, the agent slipped away and got back just in
time to catch a train for Ferrara much farther down the river. Most
of the crowd waited on the banks until dark, then returned and commenced
to hunt for the agent; not finding him, they satisfied themselves by
burning his effigy in the public square.
Monday broke on Paul, chilly and uncomfortable. Once in a while a faint
gleam of sunshine would light up the river and he took advantage of any
long reach before him, free from mills, to take a nap. He woke from one
of these naps by hearing a cry on the banks and saw a fisherman gazing
intently at the floating object. He half opened his eyes, but never made
a move, curious to see what effect his presence would make on the
peasant. At this time the current was setting him into the shore. The
fisherman ran down along the bank to a point and there stood, pole in
hand, waiting to capture what he no doubt thought was a dead body. As he
was thrusting the pole out, Paul quickly assumed an upright position in
the water and saluted him with the words:
"Buon giorno."
The pole dropped from his hand and with one frightened shriek he rushed
up the bank and disappeared.
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