"Nothing is the matter," answered Ruggiero. "Wake up the Cripple and see
if there is everything for rigging the boat. We must have her out this
afternoon. The Conte di San Miniato of whom you speak is our signore."

"Oh! I understand!" exclaimed the Son of the Fool. "Well--you need not
be so anxious. I daresay it is not true that he has no money, and at all
events the Greek will pay us."

"Of course, the Greek will pay us," answered Ruggiero thoughtfully. "I
will be back in half an hour," he added, turning away abruptly.

He walked rapidly up the steep paved ascent which leads through the
narrow gorge from the small beach to the town above. A few minutes later
he entered the chemist's shop for the first time in his life in search
of medicine for himself. He took off his cap and looked about him with
some curiosity, eying the long rows of old-fashioned majolica drug jars,
and the stock of bottles of all colours and labels in the glass cases.
The chemist was a worthy old creature with a white beard and solemn
ways.

"What do you want?" he inquired.

"A little medicine, but good," answered Ruggiero, looking critically
along the shelves, as though to select a remedy. "A little of the best,"
he added, jingling a few silver coins in his pockets and wondering how
much the stuff would cost.

"But what kind of medicine?" asked the old man. "Do you feel ill?
Where?"