occupations that absorb all my time."

In spite of the playful smile with which she accompanied these words,
Ferragut surmised a very firm will.

"Then," he said in despair, "it will all be useless?... Even though I
make the greatest sacrifices?... Even though I give proofs of love
greater than you have ever known?..."

"All useless," she replied roundly, without a sign of a smile.

They paused before the ornamental little temple-shaped building, with
its dome supported by white columns and a railing around it. The bust
of Virgil adorned the center,--an enormous head of somewhat feminine
beauty.

The poet had died in Naples in "Sweet Parthenope," on his return from
Greece and his body, turned to dust, was perhaps mingled with the soil
of this garden. The Neapolitan people of the Middle Ages had attributed
to him all kinds of wonderful things, even transforming the poet into a
powerful magician. The wizard Virgil in one night had constructed the
_Castello dell' Ovo_, placing it with his own hands upon a great egg
(_Ovo_) that was floating in the sea. He also had opened with his magic
blasts the tunnel of Posilipo near which are a vineyard and a tomb
visited for centuries as the last resting place of the poet. Little
scamps, playing around the railing, used to hurl papers and stones
inside the temple. The white head of the powerful sorcerer attracted
them and at the same time filled them with admiration and fear.

"Thus far and no further," ordered Freya. "You will continue on your
way. I am going to the high part of Chiaja.... But before separating as
good friends, you are going to give me your word not to follow me, not
to importune me with your amorous attentions, not to mix yourself in my
life."

Ulysses did not reply, hanging his head in genuine dismay. To his
disillusion was added the sting of wounded pride. He who had imagined
such very different things when they should see each other again
together, alone!...

Freya pitied his sadness.

"Don't be a Baby!... This will soon pass. Think of your business
affairs, and of your family waiting for you over there in Spain....
Besides, the world is full of women; I'm not the only one."

But Ferragut interrupted her. "Yes, she was the only one!... The only
one!..." And he said it with a conviction that awakened another one of
her compassionate smiles.

This man's tenacity was beginning to irritate her.

"Captain, I know your type very well. You are an egoist,