el the darkness growing
light again with the warm, yellow moon--to watch the jewels gathering on
the velvet sea, and the sharp black cliffs turning to chiselled silver
above you--to know that the whole night is to be but a softer day--to
see how the love of the sun for the earth is one, and the love of the
moon another--that is a moment for which one may give much and not be
disappointed.

Beatrice Granmichele saw and felt what she had never seen or felt
before, and the magic of Tragara held sway over her, as it does over the
few who see it as she saw it. She turned slowly and glanced at San
Miniato's face. The moonlight improved it, she thought. There seemed to
be more vigour in the well-drawn lines, more strength in the forehead
than she had noticed until now. She felt that she was in sympathy with
him, and that the sympathy might be a lasting one. Then she turned quite
round and faced the commonplace lamp with its pink shade, which stood
on the dinner-table, and she experienced a disagreeable sensation. The
Marchesa was slowly fanning herself, already seated at her place.

"If you are human beings, and not astronomers," she said, "we might
perhaps dine."

"I am very human, for my part," said San Miniato, holding Beatrice's
chair for her to sit down.

"There was really no use for the lamp, mamma," she said, turning again
to look at the moon. "You see what an illumination we have! San Miniato
has provided us with something better than a lamp."

"San Miniato, my dear child, is a man of the highest genius. I always
said so. But if you begin to talk of eating without a lamp, you may as
well talk of abolishing civilisation."

"I wish we could!" exclaimed Beatrice.

"And so do I, with all my heart," said San Miniato.

"Including baccarat and quinze?" enquired the Marchesa, lazily picking
out the most delicate morsels from the cold fish on her plate.

"Including baccarat, quinze, the world, the flesh and the devil," said
San Miniato.

"Pray remember, dearest friend, that Beatrice is at the table," observed
the Marchesa, with indolent reproach in her voice.

"I do," replied San Miniato. "It is precisely for her sake that I would
like to do away with the things I have named."

"You might just leave a little of each for Sundays!" suggested the young
girl.

"Beatrice!" exclaimed her mother.

CHAPTER VI.

While the little party sat at table, the sailors gathered together at a
distance among the rocks