might be after dark. Neither of us minded if we were kept for
hours; each knew in the end that the other would come; and there was a
charm of its own even in waiting with such knowledge. But that night I
did lose patience: not in the cave, but up above, where first on one
pretext and then on another the direttore kept me going until I smelt a
rat. He was not given to exacting overtime, this direttore, whose only
fault was his servile subjection to our common boss. It seemed pretty
obvious, therefore, that he was acting upon some secret instructions
from Corbucci himself, and, the moment I suspected this, I asked him to
his face if it was not the case. And it was; he admitted it with many
shrugs, being a conveniently weak person, whom one felt almost ashamed
of bullying as the occasion demanded.

"The fact was, however, that the Count had sent for him on finding he
had to go to Rome, and had said he was very sorry to go just then, as
among other things he intended to speak to me about Faustina. Stefano
had told him all about his row with her, and moreover that it was on my
account, which Faustina had never told me, though I had guessed as much
for myself. Well, the Count was going to take his jackal's part for
all he was worth, which was just exactly what I had expected him to do.
He intended going for me on his return, but meanwhile I was not to make
hay in his absence, and so this tool of a direttore had orders to keep
me at it night and day. I undertook not to give the poor beast away,
but at the same time told him I had not the faintest intention of doing
another stroke of work that night.

"It was very dark, and I remember knocking my head against the oranges
as I ran up the long, shallow steps which ended the journey between the
direttore's lodge and the villa itself. But at the back of the villa
was the garden I spoke about, and also a bare chunk of the cliff where
it was bored by that subterranean stair. So I saw the stars close
overhead, and the fishermen's torches far below, the coastwise lights
and the crimson hieroglyph that spelt Vesuvius, before I plunged into
the darkness of the shaft. And that was the last time I appreciated
the unique and peaceful charm of this outlandish spot.

"The stair was in two long flights, with an air-hole or two at the top
of the upper one, but not another pin-prick till you came to the iron
gate at the bottom of the lower. As you may read of an infinitely
lighte