'Hush, hush! The church is a holy place, and the sea may drown you some day.'
'It is a good death,' said the child, carelessly.
Joconda shuddered; she remembered the night of fifty years before, when her husband's boat had gone down, heeling over into the white, boiling surf, on the very edge of the shore.
'There are such beautiful things to see down, down, deep down, in the sea,' added the child.
'What good is that to them? Dead men are blind, said Joconda wearily. 'Whether you lie in the sand or the sea it matters nothing once you are dead, but it matters to those that are left. Child, do not talk of such things; death is no toy, and the sea is greedy always.'
'The sea is good,' said the child jealously, as if some creature she loved were aspersed. 'The sea is better than the land. You wish me a boy. It is a seagull that I wish I were; I would be if I could.'
'A seagull cannot sing.'
'I would sooner fly than sing. It is something that sings in my throat, not me;
