in," answered his brother.

"Why let thyself be consumed by it? Ask her in marriage. The Marchesa
will give her to thee."

"Better to die! Thou dost not know all."

"That may be," said Bastianello with a sigh.

And he slowly began to fake down the slack of the main halyard on the
thwart, twisting the coil slowly and thoughtfully as it grew under his
broad hands, till the rope lay in a perfectly smooth disk beside him.
But Ruggiero changed his position and gazed steadily at Beatrice's
changing face while San Miniato talked to her.

So the boat sped on and many of those on board misunderstood each other,
and some did not understand themselves. But what was most clear to all
before long was that San Miniato could not make love and steer his trick
at the same time.

"Are we going to Castellamare?" asked Bastianello in a low voice as the
boat fell off more and more under the Count's careless steering.

Ruggiero started. For the first time in his life he had forgotten that
he was at sea.

CHAPTER V.

San Miniato did not possess that peculiar and common form of vanity
which makes a man sensitive about doing badly what he has never learned
to do at all. He laughed when Ruggiero advised him to luff a little, and
he did as he was told. But Ruggiero came aft and perched himself on the
stern in order to be at hand in case his master committed another
flagrant breach of seamanship.

"You will certainly take us to the bottom of the bay instead of to
Tragara," observed the Marchesa languidly. "But then at least my
discomforts will be over for ever. Of course there is no lemonade on
board. Teresina, I want lemonade."

In an instant Bastianello produced a decanter out of a bucket of snow
and brought it aft with a glass. The Marchesa smiled.

"You do things very well, dearest friend," she said, and moistened her
lips in the cold liquid.

"Donna Beatrice has had more to do with providing for your comfort than
I," answered the Count.

The Marchesa smiled lazily, sipped about a teaspoonful from the glass
and handed it to her maid.

"Drink, Teresina," she said. "It will refresh you."

The girl drank eagerly.

"You see," said the Marchesa, "I can think of the comfort of others as
well as of my own."

San Miniato smiled politely and Beatrice laughed. Her laughter hurt the
silent sailor perched behind her, as though a glass had been broken in
his face. How could she be so gay when his heart was beating so hard