must be coming," he thought. "Or they must be expecting some
one to come, these two."

"Do you ever have visitors here?" he asked, carelessly.

"Visitors! Emile, why are we here? Do you anticipate a knock and 'If you
please, ma'am, Mrs. and the Misses Watson'? Good Heavens--visitors on
Monte Amato!"

He smiled, but he persisted.

"Never a contadino, or a shepherd, or"--he looked down at the sea--"or a
fisherman with his basket of sarde?"

Maurice moved in his chair, and Gaspare, hearing a word he knew, looked
hard at the speaker.

"Oh, we sometimes have the people of the hills to see us," said Hermione.
"But we don't call them 'visitors.' As to fishermen--here they are!"

She pointed to her husband and Gaspare.

"But they eat all the fish they catch, and we never see the fin of even
one at the cottage."

Collazione was ready now. Hermione helped Artois up from his chaise
longue, and they went to the table under the awning.

"You must sit facing the view, Emile," Hermione said.

"What a dining-room!" Artois exclaimed.

Now he could see over the wall. His gaze wandered over the
mountain-sides, travelled down to the land that lay along the edge of the
sea.

"Have you been fishing much since I've been away, Maurice?" Hermione
asked, as they began to eat.

"Oh yes. I went several times. What wine do you like, Monsieur Artois?"

He tried to change the conversation, but Hermione, quite innocently,
returned to the subject.

"They fish at night, you know, Emile, all along that coast by Isola Bella
and on to the point there that looks like an island, where the House of
the Sirens is."

A tortured look went across Maurice's face. He had begun to eat, but now
he stopped for a moment like a man suddenly paralyzed.

"The House of the Sirens!" said Artois. "Then there are sirens here? I
could well believe it. Have you seen them, Monsieur Maurice, at night,
when you have been fishing?"

He had been gazing at the coast, but now he turned towards his host.
Maurice began hastily to eat again.

"I'm afraid not. But we didn't look out for them. We were prosaic and
thought of nothing but the fish."

"And is there really a house down there?" said Artois.

"Yes," said Hermione. "It used to be a ruin, but now it's built up and
occupied. Gaspare"--she spoke to him as he was taking a dish from the
table--"who is it lives in the Casa delle Sirene now? You told me, but
I've forgotten."

A heavy, obstinate look came in