it was highly necessary to present a prosperous as well as a
seamanlike appearance on such an important occasion. Nothing could have
been more becoming to him than the dark close-fitting dress, showing as
it did the immense breadth and depth of his chest, the clean-cut sinewy
length of his limbs and the easy grace and strength of his whole
carriage. His short straight fair hair was brushed, too, and his young
yellow beard had been recently trimmed. Altogether a fine figure of a
man as he sat there waiting.

Suddenly he was aware of a wonderful vision moving towards him down the
broad corridor--a lovely dark face with liquid brown eyes, an exquisite
figure clad in a well-fitted frock of white serge, a firm, smooth step
that was not like any step he had ever heard. He rose quickly as she
passed him, and the blood rushed to his face, up to the very roots of
his hair.

Beatrice was too much of a woman not to see the effect she produced upon
the poor sailor, and she nodded gracefully to him, in acknowledgment of
his politeness in rising. As she did so she noticed on her part that the
poor sailor was indeed a very remarkable specimen of a man, such as she
had not often seen. She stopped and spoke to him.

"Are you the Count of San Miniato's boatman?" she asked in her sweet
voice.

"Yes, Eccellenza," answered Ruggiero, still blushing violently

"Then he has engaged the boat? We want a boat, too--the Marchesa di
Mola--can you get us one?"

"There is my brother, Eccellenza."

"Is he a good sailor?"

"Better than I, Eccellenza."

Beatrice looked at the figure before her and smiled graciously.

"Send him to us at twelve o'clock," she said. "The Marchesa di Mola--do
not forget."

"Yes, Eccellenza."

Ruggiero bowed respectfully, while Beatrice nodded again and passed on.
Then he sat down again and waited, but his fingers no longer moved in
calculations and his expression had changed. He sat still and stared in
the direction of the corner beyond which the young girl had disappeared.
He was conscious for the first time in his life that he possessed a
heart, for the thing thumped and kicked violently under his blue
guernsey, and he looked down at his broad chest with an odd expression
of half-childish curiosity, fully expecting to see an outward and
visible motion corresponding with the inward hammering. But he saw
nothing. Solid ribs and solid muscles kept the obstreperous machine in
its place.

"Malora!" he ejacula