ians. They may be tourists. Perhaps to-morrow they will have left
Naples. Or they may come from Sorrento, Capri. How can I tell who they
are?"

The Marchesino suddenly changed. His ardor vanished. His gesticulating
hands fell to his sides. His expressive face grew melancholy.

"Of course. How can you tell? Directly I was out of the sea and dressed,
I went to Santa Lucia. I examined every boat, but the white boat with
the green line was not there, Basta!"

He lit a fresh cigarette and was silent for a moment. Then he said:

"Emilio caro, will you come out with me to-night?"

"With pleasure."

"In the boat. There will be a moon. We will dine at the Antico
Giuseppone."

"So far off as that?" Artois said, rather abruptly.

"Why not? To-day I hate the town. I want tranquility. At the Antico
Giuseppone there will be scarcely any one. It is early in the season.
And afterwards we will fish for sarde, or saraglie. Take me away from
Naples, Emilio; take me away! For to-night, if I stay--well, I feel that
I shall not be santo."

Artois burst into his big roaring laugh.

"And why do you want to be santo to-night?" he asked.

"The beautiful girl! I wish to keep her memory, if only for one night."

"Very well, then. We will fish, and you shall be a saint."

"Caro Emilio! Perhaps Viviano will come, too. But I think he will be
with Lidia. She is singing to-night at the Teatro Nuovo. Be ready at
half-past seven. I will call for you. And now I shall leave you."

He got up, went over to a mirror, carefully arranged his tie, and put on
his straw hat at exactly the most impudent angle.

"I shall leave you to write your book while I meet papa at the villa.
Do you know why papa is so careful to be always at the villa at four
o'clock just now?"

"No!"

"Nor does mamma! If she did! Povera mamma! But she can always go to
Mass. A rivederci, Emilio."

He moved his hat a little more to one side and went out, swinging his
walking-stick gently to and fro in a manner that was pensive and almost
sentimental.

CHAPTER VI

The Marchesino Panacci was generally very sincere with his friends,
and the boyish expression in his eyes was not altogether deceptive,
for despite his wide knowledge of certain aspects of life, not wholly
admirable, there was really something of the simplicity of a child--of a
child that could be very naughty--in his disposition. But if he could
be naive he could also be mischievous and even subtle, and h