tors at the
watering-place. A certain amount of rather arbitrary power is placed in
the hands of the local authorities in all great summer resorts, and it
is quite right that it should be so--nor is it as a rule unjustly used.

But Beatrice had acted very differently, very kindly and very
generously. That was because she was naturally so good and gentle,
thought Ruggiero. But the least he had expected was that she would never
again speak to him save to give an order, nor say a kind word, no matter
what service he rendered her, or what danger he ran for her sake. And
now, a moment ago, she had talked with him with more interest and kindly
condescension than she had ever shown before. He refused, and rightly,
to believe that this was because she had needed his help in the matter
of the telegram. She could have called Bastianello, who was in her own
service, and Bastianello would have done just as well. But she had
chosen to employ the man who had so rudely forgotten himself before her
less than twenty-four hours earlier. Why? Ruggiero, little capable, by
natural gifts or by experience, of dealing with such questions, found
himself face to face with a great problem of the human self, and he
knew at once that he could never solve it, try as he might. His
happiness was none the less great, nor his gratitude the less deep and
sincere, and with both these grew up instantly in his heart the strong
determination to serve her at every turn, so far as lay in his power.

It was not much that he could do, he reflected, unless she would show
him the way as she had done this very morning. But, considering the
position of affairs, and her evident distrust of her betrothed, it was
not impossible that similar situations might arise before long. If they
did, Ruggiero would be ready, as he had now shown himself, to do her
bidding with startling directness and energy. He was well aware of his
physical superiority over every one else in Sorrento, and he was dimly
conscious that a threat from him was something which would frighten most
men, and which none could afford to overlook. He remembered poor Don
Gennaro's face just now, when he had quietly told him what he might
expect if he did not hold his tongue. Ruggiero had never valued his life
very highly, and since he had loved Beatrice he did not value it a
straw. This state of mind can make a man an exceedingly dangerous
person, especially when he is so endowed that he can tear a new horse