l follow you on foot, and
join you at the hill."

"Si Signore."

He got out, stood for a moment, then strolled on towards the Mergellina.
As he approached this part of the town, with its harbor and its
population of fisherfolk, the thought of Ruffo came into his mind. He
remembered that Ruffo lived here. Perhaps he might see the boy this
afternoon.

On the mole that serves as a slight barrier between the open sea and
the snug little harbor several boys were fishing. Others were bathing,
leaping into the water with shouts from the rocks. Beyond, upon the
slope of dingy sand among the drawn-up boats, children were playing, the
girls generally separated from the boys. Fishermen, in woolen shirts
and white linen trousers, sat smoking in the shadow of their craft, or
leaned muscular arms upon them, standing at ease, staring into vacancy
or calling to each other. On the still water there was a perpetual
movement of boats; and from the distance came a dull but continuous
uproar, the yells and the laughter of hundreds of bathers at the
Stabilimento di Bagni beyond the opposite limit of the harbor.

Artois enjoyed the open-air gayety, the freedom of the scene; and once
again, as often before, found himself thinking that the out-door life,
the life loosed from formal restrictions, was the only one really and
fully worth living. There was a carelessness, a camaraderie among these
people that was of the essence of humanity. Despite their frequent
quarrels, their intrigues, their betrayals, their vendettas, they hung
together. There was a true and vital companionship among them.

He passed on with deliberation, observing closely, yet half-lazily--for
his brain was slack and needed rest--the different types about him,
musing on the possibilities of their lives, smiling at the gambols of
the intent girls, and the impudent frolics of the little boys who seemed
the very spawn of sand and sea and sun, till he had nearly passed the
harbor, and was opposite to the pathway that leads down to the jetty, to
the left of which lie the steam-yachts.

At the entrance to this pathway there is always a knot of people
gathered about the shanty where the seamen eat maccaroni and strange
messes, and the stands where shell-fish are exposed for sale. On the far
side of the tramway, beneath the tall houses which are let out in rooms
and apartments for families, there is an open space, and here in summer
are set out quantities of strong tables, at