charmer of the sea. Once there he might either find some pretext for
making her acquaintance through Artois--if Artois did know her--or, if
that were impossible, he might at least find out where she lived. By
the manner of Artois when the Antico Giuseppone was mentioned, he knew
at once that he was playing his cards well. The occupants of the white
boat were known to the novelist. They did live somewhere near the
Antico Giuseppone. And certainly Artois had no desire to bring about
his--the Marchesino's--acquaintance with them.

That this was so, neither surprised nor seriously vexed the
Marchesino. He knew a good deal of his friend's character, knew that
Artois, despite his geniality and friendliness, was often reserved--
even with him. During their short intimacy he had certainly told
Artois a great deal more about his affairs with women than had been
told to him in return. This fact was borne in upon him now. But he did
not feel angry. A careless good-nature was an essential part of his
character. He did not feel angry at his friend's secrecy, but he did
feel mischievous. His lively desire to know the girl with "the perfect
little nose" was backed up now by another desire--to teach "Caro
Emilio" that it was better to meet complete frankness with complete
frankness.

He had strolled out of his friend's room pensively, acting the
melancholy youth who had lost all hope of succeeding in his desire;
but directly the door was shut his manner changed. Disregarding the
lift, he ran lightly down the stairs, made his way swiftly by the
revolving door into the street, crossed it, and walked towards the
harbor of Santa Lucia, where quantities of pleasure-boats lie waiting
for hire, and the boatmen are gathered in knots smoking and gossiping,
or are strolling singly up and down near the water's edge, keeping a