ttack of the affections, it had
become the latter's chief object to conceal the real truth. It was not
so much, that he dreaded the ridicule--he, a poor sailor--of being known
to love a great lady's daughter; ridicule was not among the things he
feared. But something far too subtle for him to define made him keep his
secret to himself--an inborn, chivalrous, manly instinct, inherited
through generations of peasants but surviving still, as the trace of
gold in the ashes of a rich stuff that has had gilded threads in it.

"If I did begin with the gold," he said at last, "and if she would not
have me when I spoke afterwards, she would give the gold back."

"Of course she would. What do you take her for?" Bastianello asked the
question almost angrily, for he loved Teresina and he resented the
slightest imputation upon her fair dealing.

Ruggiero looked at him curiously, but was far too much preoccupied with
his own thoughts to guess what the matter was. He turned away and went
towards the fire where the Gull was already tasting a slippery string of
the macaroni to find out whether it were enough cooked. Bastianello
shrugged his shoulders and followed him in silence. Before long they
were all seated round the huge earthen dish, each armed with an iron
fork in one hand and a ship biscuit in the other, with which to catch
the drippings neatly, according to good manners, in conveying the full
fork from the dish to the wide-opened mouth. By and by there was a sound
of liquid gurgling from a demijohn as it was poured into the big jug,
and the wine went round quickly from hand to hand, while those who
waited for their turn munched their biscuits. Some one has said that
great appetites, like great passions, are silent. Hardly a word was said
until the wine was passed a second time with a ration of hard cheese and
another biscuit. Then the tongues were unloosed and the strange, uncouth
jests of the rough men circulated in an undertone, and now and then one
of them suffered agonies in smothering a huge laugh, lest his mirth
should disturb the "excellencies" at their table. The latter, however,
were otherwise engaged and paid little attention to the sailors.

The Marchesa di Mola, having eaten about six mouthfuls of twice that
number of delicacies and having swallowed half a glass of champagne and
a cup of coffee, was extended in her cane rocking-chair, with her back
to the moon and her face to the lamp, trying to imagine herself in