way before Artois' return. June came in upon the
Bay, bringing with it a more vivid life in the environs of Naples.
As the heat of the sun increased the vitality of the human motes that
danced in its beams seemed to increase also, to become more blatant,
more persistent. The wild oleander was in flower. The thorny cactus put
forth upon the rim of its grotesque leaves pale yellow blossoms to
rival the red geraniums that throng about it insolently in Italy. In the
streets of the city ragged boys ran by crying, "Fragole!" and holding
aloft the shallow baskets in which the rosy fruit made splashes of happy
color. The carters wore bright carnations above their dusty ears. The
children exposed their bare limbs to the sun, and were proud when they
were given morsels of ice wrapped up in vine leaves to suck in the
intervals of their endless dances and their play. On the hill of
Posilipo the Venetian blinds of the houses, in the gardens clouded by
the rounded dusk of the great stone pines, were thrust back, the windows
were thrown open, the glad sun-rays fell upon the cool paved floors,
over which few feet had trodden since the last summer died. Loud was the
call of "Aqua!" along the roads where there were buildings, and all the
lemons of Italy seemed to be set forth in bowers to please the eyes with
their sharp, yet soothing color, and tempt the lips with their poignant
juice. Already in the Galleria, an "avviso" was prominently displayed,
stating that Ferdinando Bucci, the famous maker of Sicilian ice-creams,
had arrived from Palermo for the season. In the Piazza del Plebiscito,
hundreds of chairs were ranged before the bandstand, and before the
kiosk where the women sing on the nights of summer near the Caffe Turco.
The "Margherita" was shutting up. The "Eldorado" was opening. And all
along the sea, from the vegetable gardens protected by brushwood hedges
on the outskirts of the city towards Portici, to the balconies of
the "Mascotte," under the hill of Posilipo, the wooden bathing
establishments were creeping out into the shallow waters, and displaying
proudly to the passers-by above their names: "Stabilimento Elena,"
"Stabilimento Donn' Anna," "Stabilimento delle Sirene," "Il piccolo
Paradiso."

And all along the sea by night there was music.

From the Piazza before the Palace the band of the Caffe Gambrinus sent
forth its lusty valses. The posturing women of the wooden kiosk caught
up the chain of sound, and flung it on w