really late. He lay back, lazily smoking his cigar, and
drinking in the stark beauty round about him, a beauty delicately and
mysteriously fashioned by the night, which, as by a miracle, had laid
hold of bareness and barren ugliness, and turned them to its exquisite
purposes, shrinking from no material in its certainty of its own power
to transform.

The Marchesino, too, lay back, with his great, gray eyes staring about
him. While the feelings of his friend had moved towards satisfaction,
his had undergone a less pleasant change. His plan seemed to be going
awry, and he began to think of himself as of a fool. What had he
anticipated? What had he expected of this expedition? He had been, as
usual, politely waiting on destiny. He had come to the islet in the hope
that Destiny would meet him there and treat him with every kindness and
hospitality, forestalling his desires. But lo! He was abandoned in a
boat among a lot of taciturn men, while the object of all his thoughts
and pains, his plots and hopes, was, doubtless, hermetically sealed in
the home on the cliff above him.

Several Neapolitan words, familiar in street circles, ran through his
mind, but did not issue from his lips, and his face remained perfectly
calm--almost seraphic in expression.

Out of the corners of his eyes he stole a glance at "caro Emilio." He
wished his friend would follow the example of the men and go to sleep.
He wanted to feel himself alone in wakefulness and unobserved. For he
was not resigned to an empty fate. The voices of the laughing women at
the Antico Giuseppone still rang through his memory. He was adventurous
by nature. What he would do if Emilio would only slumber he did not
know. But it was certain he would do something. The islet, dark and
distinct in outline beneath the moon, summoned him. Was he a Neapolitan
and not beneath her window? It was absurd. And he was not at all
accustomed to control himself or to fight his own impulses. For the
moment "caro Emilio" became "maledetto Emilio" in his mind. Sleepless as
Providence, Emilio reclined there. A slightly distracted look came into
the Marchesino's eyes as he glanced away from his friend and stared once
more at the islet, which he longed so ardently to invade.

This time he saw the figures of Vere and Ruffo above him in the
moonlight, which now sharply relieved them. He gazed. And as he gazed
they moved away from the bridge, going towards the seat where Vere had
been before s