forenoon all the inhabitants of Nepenthe, of whatever age, sex, or
condition, should endeavour to find themselves in the market-place or
piazza--a charming square, surrounded on three sides by the principal
buildings of the town and open, on the fourth, to a lovely prospect
over land and sea. They were to meet on this spot; here to exchange
gossip, make appointments for the evening, and watch the arrival of
new-comers to their island. An admirable rule! For it effectively
prevented everybody from doing any kind of work in the morning; and
after luncheon, of course, you went to sleep. It was delightful to be
obliged, by iron convention, to stroll about in the bright sunshine,
greeting your friends, imbibing iced drinks, and letting your eye stray
down to the lower level of the island with its farmhouses embowered in
vineyards; or across the glittering water towards the distant coastline
and its volcano; or upwards, into those pinnacles of the higher region
against whose craggy ramparts, nearly always, a fleet of snowy
sirocco-clouds was anchored. For Nepenthe was famous not only for its
girls and lobsters, but also for its south wind.

As usual at this hour the market-place was crowded with folks. It was a
gay throng. Priests and curly-haired children, farmers, fishermen,
citizens, a municipal policeman or two, brightly dressed women of all
ages, foreigners in abundance--they moved up and down, talking,
laughing, gesticulating. Nobody had anything particular to do; such was
the rule.

The Russian sect was well represented. They were religious enthusiasts,
ever increasing in numbers and led by their Master, the divinely
inspired Bazhakuloff, who was then living in almost complete seclusion
on the island. They called themselves the "Little White Cows," to mark
their innocence of worldly affairs, and their scarlet blouses, fair