away from their mood in the confessional of Virgil's Grotto, and from
the sadness of the white and silent day.

As to Ruffo, about whom they jested, he was in sight of Naples, and
not far from Mergellina, still rowing with tireless young arms, and
singing to "Bella Napoli," with a strong resolve in his heart to
return to the Saint's Pool on the first opportunity and dive for more
cigarettes.



CHAPTER IV

At the Antico Giuseppone, Artois left the boat from the islet and,
taking another, was rowed towards the public gardens of Naples, whose
trees were faintly visible far off across the Bay. Usually he talked
familiarly to any Neapolitan with whom he found himself, but to-day he
was taciturn, and sat in the stern of the broad-bottomed craft looking
towards the city in silence while the boatman plied his oars. The
memory of his conversation with Hermione in the Grotto of Virgil, of
her manner, the look in her eyes, the sound of her voice there, gave
him food for thought that was deep and serious.

Although Artois had an authoritative, and often an ironical manner
that frightened timid people, he was a man capable of much emotion and
of great loyalty. He did not easily trust or easily love, but in those
whose worth he had thoroughly proved he had a confidence as complete
as that of a child. And where he placed his complete confidence he
placed also his affection. The one went with the other almost as
inevitably as the wave goes with the wind.