If he were here to-night she would begin at once to talk to him about
the sea. But of course he would never come at night to the islet.

Vere knew that the Neapolitan fishermen usually keep each to his own
special branch of the common profession. By this time of night, no
doubt, Ruffo was in his home at the Mergellina, sitting in the midst
of his family, or was strolling with lively companions of his own age,
or, perhaps, was fast asleep in bed.

Vere felt that it would be horrible to go to bed on such a night, to
shut herself in from the moon and the sea. The fishermen who slept in
the shelter of the Saint's Pool were enviable. They had the stars
above them, the waters about them, the gentle winds to caress them as
they lay in the very midst of romance.

She wondered whether there were any boats in the Saint's Pool
to-night. She had not been to see. A few steps and she could look
over. She got up and went back to the bridge, treading softly because
she was thinking of repose. There she stopped and looked down. She saw
two boats on the far side of the Pool almost at the feet of the Saint.
The men in them must be lying down, for Vere could see only the boats,
looking black, and filled with a confused blackness--of sails
probably, and sleeping men. The rest of the pool was empty, part of it
bright with the radiance of the moon, part of it shading away to the
mysterious dimness of still water at night under the lee of cliffs.

For some time the girl stood, watching. Just at that moment her active
brain almost ceased to work, stilled by the reverie that is born of
certain night visions. Without these motionless boats the Pool of the
Saint would have been calm. With them, its stillness seemed almost