beard was
not quite so thick, his eyes were a little softer, his movements a
trifle less energetically direct than Ruggiero's, and he was, perhaps,
an inch shorter; but the resemblance was extraordinary and would have
struck any one.

They were admitted to the presence of the Marchesa di Mola in due time.
She lay in a deep chair under the arches of her terrace, shaded by brown
linen curtains, languid, idle, indifferent as ever.

"Beatrice!" she called in a lazy tone, as the two men stood still at a
respectful distance, waiting to be addressed.

But instead of Beatrice, a maid appeared at a door at the other end of
the terrace--a fresh young thing with rosy cheeks, brown hair,
sparkling black eyes and a pretty figure.

"Call Donna Beatrice," said the Marchesa. Then, as though exhausted by
the effort of speaking she closed her eyes and waited.

The maid cast a quick glance at the two handsome sailors and disappeared
again. Ruggiero and Sebastiano stood motionless, only their eyes turning
from side to side and examining everything with the curiosity habitual
in seamen.

Presently Beatrice entered, looked at them both for a moment and then
went up to her mother.

"It is for the boat, mamma," she said. "Do you wish me to arrange about
it?"

"Of course," answered the Marchesa opening her eyes and immediately
shutting them again.

Beatrice stepped aside and beckoned the two men to her. To Ruggiero's
infinite surprise, he again felt the blood rushing to his face, and his
heart began to pound his ribs like a fuller's hammer. He glanced at his
brother and saw that he was perfectly self-possessed. Beatrice looked
from one to the other in perplexity.

"You are so much alike!" she exclaimed. "With which of you did I speak
this morning?"

"With me, Eccellenza," said Ruggiero, whose own voice sounded strangely
in his ears. "And this is my brother," he added.

The arrangement was soon made, but during the short interchange of
questions and answers Ruggiero could not take his eyes from Beatrice's
face. Possibly he was not even aware that it was rude to stare at a
lady, for his education had not been got in places where ladies are
often seen, or manners frequently discussed. But Beatrice did not seem
at all disturbed by the scrutiny, though she was quite aware of its
pertinacity. A woman who has beauty in any degree rarely resents the
genuine and unconcealed admiration of the vulgar. On the contrary, as
the young girl d