"Oh, Spain!..." she said in English. "The land of knightly
gentlemen.... Cervantes ... Lope!... The Cid!..."

She stopped hunting for more celebrities. Suddenly she seized the
sailor's arm, exclaiming as energetically as though she had just made a
discovery through the little door of the coach. "Calderon de la Barca!"
Ferragut saluted her. "Yes, Senora." After that the younger woman
thought that it was necessary to present her companion.

"Doctor Fedelmann.... A very wise woman distinguished in philology and
literature."

After clasping the doctor's hand, Ferragut indiscreetly set himself to
work to gather information.

"The Senora is German?" he said in Spanish to the younger one.

The gold-rimmed spectacles appeared to guess the question and shot a
restless gleam at her companion.

"No," she replied. "My friend is a Russian, or rather a Pole."

"And you, are you Polish, too?" continued the sailor.

"No, I am Italian."

In spite of the assurance with which she said this, Ferragut felt
tempted to exclaim, "You little liar!" Then, as he gazed upon the full,
black, audacious eyes fixed upon him, he began to doubt.... Perhaps she
was telling the truth.

Again he found himself interrupted by the wordiness of the doctor. She
was now speaking in French, repeating her eulogies on Ferragut's
country. She could read Castilian in the classic works, but she would
not venture to speak it. "Ah, Spain! Country of noble traditions...."
And then, seeking to relieve these eulogies by some strong contrast,
she twisted her face into a wrathful expression.

The train was running along the coast, having on one side the blue
desert of the Gulf of Salerno, and on the other the red and green
mountains dotted with white villages and hamlets. The doctor took it
all in with her gleaming glasses.

"A country of bandits," she said, clenching her fists. "Country of
mandolin-twangers, without honor and without gratitude!..."

The girl laughed at this outburst with that hilarity of
light-heartedness in which no impressions are durable, considering as
of no importance anything which does not bear directly upon its own
egoism.

From a few words that the two ladies let fall, Ulysses inferred that
they had been living in Rome and had only been in Naples a short time,
perhaps against their will. The younger one was well acquainted with
the country, and her companion was taking advantage of this enforced
journey in order to see what she