the very darkness itself; and one could find one's way without
difficulty under such a limpid night. But in a little while we
began to pass through a "venella," or, in Neopolitan parlance, a
sottoportico, which led under so many archways and so many far-
projecting balconies that no gleam of light from the sky could
reach us. My young guide had made us take this route as a short
cut, she assured us; but I think she did so quite as much simply
in order to show that she felt at home in Naples, and knew the
city thoroughly. Indeed, she needed to know it very thoroughly
to venture by night into that labyrinth of subterranean alleys and
flights of steps. If ever any many showed absolute docility in
allowing himself to be guided, that man was myself. Dante never
followed the steps of Beatrice with more confidence than I felt in
following those of Princess Trepof.

The lady appeared to find some pleasure in my conversation, for
she invited me to take a carriage-drive with her on the morrow to
visit the grotto of Posilippo and the tomb of Virgil. She declared
she had seen me somewhere before; but she could not remember if it
had been a Stockholm or at Canton. In the former event I was a
very celebrated professor of geology; in the latter, a provision-
merchant whose courtesy and kindness had been much appreciated.
One thing certain was that she had seen my back somewhere before.

"Excuse me," she added; "we are continually travelling, my husband
and I, to collect match-boxes and to change our ennui by changing
country. Perhaps it would be more reasonable to content ourselves
with a single variety of ennui. But we have made all our
preparations and arrangements for travelling: all our plans have
been laid out in advance, and it gives us no trouble, whereas it