d from events,
secure of the tremendous solitude that is the property of every human
being on earth.

"Pain, misery, horror, come from within, not from without." She said
that to herself steadily. "I am free so long as I choose, so long as I
have the courage to choose, to be free."

And saying that, and never once allowing her mind to state frankly any
fear, she came down to the harbor of Mergellina.

The harbor and its environs looked immensely gay in the brilliant
sunshine. Life was at play here, even at its busiest. The very workers
sang as if their work were play. Boats went in and out on the water.
Children paddled in the shallow sea, pushing hand-nets along the sand.
From the rocks boys were bathing. Their shouts travelled to the road
where the fishermen were talking with intensity, as they leaned against
the wall hot with the splendid sun.

Hermione looked for Ruffo's face among all these sun-browned faces, for
his bright eyes among all the sparkling eyes of these children of the
sea.

But she could not see him. She walked along the wall slowly.

"Ruffo--Ruffo--Ruffo!"

She was summoning him with her mind.

Perhaps he was among those bathing boys. She looked across the harbor to
the rocks, and saw the brown body of one shoot through the shining air
and disappear with a splash into the sea.

Perhaps that boy was he--how far away from her loneliness, her sadness,
and her dread!

She began to despair of finding him.

"Barca! Barca!"

She had reached the steps now near the Savoy Hotel. A happy-looking
boatman, with hazel eyes and a sensitive mouth, hailed her from the
water. It was Fabiano Lari, to whom Artois had once spoken, waiting for
custom in his boat the _Stella del Mare_.

Hermione was attracted to the man, as Artois had been, and she resolved
to find out from him, if possible, where Ruffo's mother lived. She went
down the steps. The man immediately brought his boat right in.

"No," she said, "I don't want the boat."

Fabiano looked a little disappointed.

"I am looking for some one who lives here, a Sicilian boy called Ruffo."

"Ruffo Scarla, Signora? The Sicilian?"

"That must be he. Do you know him?"

"Si, Signora, I know Ruffo very well. He was here this morning. But I
don't know where he is now." He looked round. "He may have gone home,
Signora."

"Do you know where he lives?"

"Si, Signora. It is near where I live. It's near the Grotto."

"Could you possibly leave your boat