l stroke and I will pull bow. In
that way you will be near to Teresina and she will amuse herself the
better, for you and she can take the crabs while I hold the torch."

"And the Signorina and the Count can sit together in the stern," said
Bastianello, who seemed much pleased with the arrangement. "The best
crabs are between Scutari and the natural arch."

"One knows that," assented Ruggiero, and relapsed into silence.

Presently the door of the cabin opened and Beatrice came out, her cheeks
and eyes fresh and bright from the sea. Of course Bastianello at once
ran to help Teresina wring out the wet things and make up her bundle,
and Beatrice came towards Ruggiero, who took off his cap and stood
bareheaded in the sun as she went by, and then walked slowly behind her,
at a respectful distance. To reach the beginning of the ascent they had
to make their way through the many boats hauled up beyond the slip upon
the dry sand. Beatrice gathered her light skirt in her hand as she
passed Ruggiero's newly painted skiff, for she was familiar enough with
boats to know that the oil might still be fresh.

"It is quite dry, Excellency," he said. "The boat belongs to me."

Beatrice turned with a smile, looked at it and then at Ruggiero.

"What did I tell you the other day, Ruggiero?" she asked, still smiling.
"You were to call me Signorina. Do you remember?"

"Yes, Signorina. I beg pardon."

Beatrice saw that Teresina had not yet left the cabin with her bag, and
that Bastianello was loitering before the door, pretending or really
trying to help her.

"Do you know what Teresina has been telling me, Ruggiero?" asked
Beatrice, stopping entirely and turning towards him as they stood in the
narrow way between Ruggiero's boat and the one lying next to her.

"Of Bastianello, Signorina?"

"Yes. That she wants to marry him. She told me while I was dressing. You
know?"

"Yes, Signorina, and I laughed when he told me the story the other day,
over there on the pier."

"I heard you laughing, Ruggiero," answered Beatrice, remembering the
unpleasant impression she had received when she had looked down from the
terrace. His huge mirth had come up as a sort of shock to her in the
midst of her own trouble. "Why did you laugh?" she asked.

"Must I tell you, Signorina?"

"Yes."

"It was this. Bastianello had a thought. He imagined to himself that I
loved Teresina--I!--"

Ruggiero broke off in the sentence and looked away. His voice