"Niente!" said the Marchesino, recollecting himself. "Are not you
going to sleep?"

"Yes," said Artois, throwing away his cigar end. "I am. And you?"

"I too!"

The Marchesino was surprised by his friend's reply. He did not
understand the desire of Artois not to have his sense of the romance
of their situation broken in upon by conversation just then. The
romance of women was not with Artois, but the romance of Nature was.
He wanted to keep it. And now he settled himself a little lower in the
boat, under the shadow of its side, and seemed to be giving himself to
sleep.

The Marchesino thanked the Madonna, and made his little pretence of
slumber too, but he kept his head above the gunwale, leaning it on his
arm with a supporting cushion beneath; and though he really did shut
both his eyes for a short time, to deceive caro Emilio, he very soon
opened them again, and gazed towards the islet. He could not see the
two figures now. Rage seized him. First the two men at the Antico
Giuseppone, and now this man on the islet! Every one was companioned.
Every one was enjoying the night as it was meant to be enjoyed. He--he
alone was the sport of "il maledetto destino." He longed to commit
some act of violence. Then he glanced cautiously round without moving.

The two sailors were sleeping. He could hear their regular and rather
loud breathing. Artois lay quite still. The Marchesino turned his body
very carefully so that he might see the face of his friend. As he did
so Artois, who had been looking straight up at the stars, shut his