back to it as to an element that
understood her and which she understood. She swam well and loved the
easy, fluent motion she felt in the exercise, and she loved to lie on
her back with arms extended and upturned face, drinking in the light
breeze and the sunshine and the deep blue freshness of sky and water.

While she was bathing Bastianello and Teresina sat together behind the
bathing-house, but Ruggiero retired respectfully to a distance and
busied himself with giving his little boat a final washing, mopping out
the water with an old sponge, which he passed again and again over each
spot, as though never satisfied with the result. He would have thought
it bad manners indeed to be too near the bathing-place when Beatrice was
in swimming. But he kept an eye on Teresina, whom he could see talking
with his brother, and when she went into the cabin, he knew that
Beatrice had finished her bath, and he found little more to do in
cleaning the old tub, which indeed, to a landsman's eye, presented a
decidedly smart appearance in her new coat of white paint, with a
scarlet stripe. When he had finished, he sauntered up to the wooden
bridge that led to the bathing cabins and sat down on the upper rail,
hooking one foot behind the lower one. Bastianello, momentarily
separated from Teresina, came and stood beside him.

"A couple of fenders would save the new paint on her, if we are going
for crabs," he observed, thoughtfully.

Ruggiero made that peculiar side motion of the head which means assent
and approval in the south.

"And we will bring our own kettle for the crabs, and get the milk from
the hotel," continued the younger brother, who anticipated an extremely
pleasant evening in the society of Teresina. "And I have told Saint
Peter to bring the torches, because he knows where to get them good,"
added Bastianello who did not expect Ruggiero to say anything. "What
time do we go?"

"Towards an hour and a half of the night," said Ruggiero, meaning two
hours after sunset. "Then the padroni will have eaten and the rocks will
be covered with crabs, and the moon will not be yet risen. It will be
dark under Scutari till past midnight, and the crabs will sit still
under the torch, and we can take them with our hands as we always do."

"Of course," answered Bastianello, who was familiar with the sport, "one
knows that."

"And I will tell you another thing," continued Ruggiero, who seemed to
warm with the subject. "You shall pul