menace into the dim vault of the sky. The sea was without waves. The
boats by the wharf, where the road ascends past the villa Rosebery to
the village of Posilipo, scarcely moved. Near them, in a group,
lounging against the wall and talking rapidly, stood the two sailors
from Naples with the boatmen of the Guiseppone. Oil lamps glimmered
upon two or three of the deal tables, round one of which was gathered
a party consisting of seven large women, three children, and two very
thin middle-aged men with bright eyes, all of whom were eating
oysters. Farther on, from a small arbor that gave access to a
fisherman's house, which seemed to be constructed partially in a cave
of the rock, and which was gained by a steep and crumbling stairway of
stone, a mother called shrilly to some half-naked little boys who were
fishing with tiny hand-nets in the sea. By the table which was
destined to the Marchesino and Artois three ambulant musicians were
hovering, holding in their broad and dirty hands two shabby mandolins
and a guitar. In the distance a cook with a white cap on his head and
bare arms was visible, as he moved to and fro in the lighted kitchen
of the old ristorante, preparing a "zuppa di pesce" for the gentlemen
from Naples.

"Che bella notte!" said the Marchesino, suddenly.

His voice sounded sentimental. He twisted his mustaches and added:

"Emilio, we ought to have brought two beautiful women with us
to-night. What are the moon and the sea to men without beautiful
women?"

"And the fishing?" said Artois.