an operation when the effect of the
anaesthetic gradually fades away.

She was walking up the hill and still crying.

She met a boy of the people, swarthy, with impudent black eyes, tangled
hair, and a big, pouting mouth, above which a premature mustache showed
like a smudge. He looked into her face and began to laugh. She saw his
white teeth, and her tears rushed back to their sources. At once her
eyes were dry. And, almost at once, she thought, her heart became hard
as stone, and she felt self-control like iron within her.

That boy of the people should be the last human being to laugh at her.

She saw a tram stop. It went to the "Trattoria del Giardinetto." She got
in, and sat down next to two thin English ladies, who held guide-books
in their hands, and whose pointed features looked piteously inquiring.

"Excuse me, but do you know this neighborhood?"

She was being addressed.

"Yes."

"That is fortunate--we do not. Perhaps you will kindly tell us something
about it. Is it far to Bagnoli?"

"Not very far."

"And when you get there?"

"I beg your pardon!"

"When you get there, is there much to see?"

"Not so very much."

"Can one lunch there?"

"No doubt."

"Yes. But I mean, what sort of lunch? Can one get anything clean and
wholesome, such as you get in England?"

"It would be Italian food."

"Oh, dear. Fanny, this lady says we can only get Italian food at
Bagnoli!"

"Tcha! Tcha!"

"But perhaps--excuse me, but do you think we could get a good cup of tea
there? We might manage with that--tea and some boiled eggs. Don't you
think so, Fanny? Could we get a cup of--"

The tram stopped. Hermione had pulled the cord that made the bell sound.
She paid and got down. The tram carried away the English ladies, their
pointed features red with surprise and indignation.

Hermione again began to walk, but almost directly she saw a wandering
carriage and hailed the driver.

"Carrozza!"

She got in.

"Put me down at the 'Trattoria del Giardinetto.'"

"Si, Signora--but how much are you going to give me? I can't take you
for less than--"

"Anything--five lire--drive on at once."

The man drove on, grinning.

Presently Hermione was walking through the short tunnel that leads to
the path descending between vineyards to the sea. She must take a boat
to the island. She must go back to the island. Where else could she
go? If Vere had not been there she might--but Vere was there. It was
inevitable.