rch
and----"

The voice of the coachman stopped short. Behind him the pair were
talking in an incomprehensible language, without paying the slightest
attention to him, without acknowledging his erudite explanations.
Ignorant foreigners!... And he said no more, wrapping himself in
offended silence, relieving his Neapolitan verbosity with a series of
shouts and grunts to his horse.

The new road from Posilipo, the work of Murat, skirted the gulf, rising
along the mountain edge and constantly emphasizing the declivity
between the covering of its feet and the border of the sea. On this
hanging slope may be seen villas with white or rosy facades midst the
splendor of a vegetation that is always green and glossy. Beyond the
colonnades of palm trees and parasol pines, appeared the gulf like a
blue curtain, its upper edge showing above the murmuring tops of the
trees.

An enormous edifice appeared facing the water. It was a palace in
ruins, or rather a roofless palace never finished, with thick walls and
huge windows. On the lower floor the waves entered gently through doors
and windows which served as rooms of refuge for the fishermen's skiffs.

The two travelers were undoubtedly talking about this ruin, and the
forgiving coachman forgot his snub in order to come to their aid.

"That is what many people call the Palace of Queen Joanna.... A
mistake, sir. Ignorance of the uneducated people! That is the _Palazzo
di Donn' Anna_, and _Donna Anna Carafa_ was a great Neapolitan
_signora_, wife of the Duke of Medina, the Spanish viceroy who
constructed the palace for her and was not able to finish it."...

He was about to say more but stopped himself. Ah, no! By the
Madonna!... Again they had begun to talk, without listening to him....
And he finally took refuge in offended silence, while they chattered
continually behind his back.

Ferragut felt an interest in the remote love-affairs of the Neapolitan
great lady with the prudent and aristocratic Spanish magnate. His
passion had made the grave viceroy commit the folly of constructing a
palace in the sea. The sailor was also in love with a woman of another
race and felt equal desires to do whimsical things for her.

"I have read the mandates of Nietzsche," he said to her, by way of
explaining his enthusiasm,--"'seek thy wife outside thy country.' That
is the best thing."

Freya smiled sadly.

"Who knows?... That would complicate love with the prejudices of
national antag