trifle less energetically direct than Ruggiero's, and he was, perhaps,
an inch shorter; but the resemblance was extraordinary and would have
struck any one.

They were admitted to the presence of the Marchesa di Mola in due time.
She lay in a deep chair under the arches of her terrace, shaded by brown
linen curtains, languid, idle, indifferent as ever.

"Beatrice!" she called in a lazy tone, as the two men stood still at a
respectful distance, waiting to be addressed.

But instead of Beatrice, a maid appeared at a door at the other end of
the terrace--a fresh young thing with rosy cheeks, brown hair,
sparkling black eyes and a pretty figure.

"Call Donna Beatrice," said the Marchesa. Then, as though exhausted by
the effort of speaking she closed her eyes and waited.

The maid cast a quick glance at the two handsome sailors and disappeared
again. Ruggiero and Sebastiano stood motionless, only their eyes turning
from side to side and examining everything with the curiosity habitual
in seamen.

Presently Beatrice entered, looked at them both for a moment and then
went up to her mother.

"It is for the boat, mamma," she said. "Do you wish me to arrange about
it?"

"Of course," answered the Marchesa opening her eyes and immediately