ing a few
steps turned to look back. The woman and Ruffo had come into the road
by the tram-line. They stood there for a moment, talking. Then Ruffo
crossed over to the path, and the woman went away slowly towards the
Rotonda. Seeing Ruffo alone Artois turned to go back, thinking to have
a word with the boy. But before he could reach him he saw a man step out
from behind the wooden shanty of the fishermen and join him.

This man was Gaspare.

Ruffo and Gaspare strolled slowly away towards the jetty where the
yachts lie, and presently disappeared.

Artois found Pasqualino waiting for him rather impatiently not far from
the entrance to the Scoglio di Frisio.

"I thought you were dead, Signore," he remarked, as Artois came up.

"I was watching the people."

He got into the carriage.

"They are canaglia," said Pasqualino, with the profound contempt of the
Neapolitan coachman for those who get their living by the sea. He lived
at Fuorigrotta, and thought Mergellina a place of outer darkness.

"I like them," returned Artois.

"You don't know them, Signore. I say--they are canaglia. Where shall I
drive you?"

Artois hesitated, passing in mental review the various ristoranti on the
hill.

"Take me to the Ristorante della Stella," he said, at length.

Pasqualino cracked his whip, and drove once more merrily onward.

When Artois came to the ristorante, which was perched high up on the
side of the road farthest from the sea, he had almost all the tables to
choose from, as it was still early in the evening, and in the summer
the Neapolitans who frequent the more expensive restaurants usually dine
late. He sat down at a table in the open air close to the railing, from
which he could see a grand view of the Bay, as well as all that was
passing on the road beneath, and ordered a dinner to be ready in half an
hour. He was in no hurry, and wanted to finish his cigar.

There was a constant traffic below. The tram-bell sounded its reiterated
signal to the crowds of dusty pedestrians to clear the way. Donkeys
toiled upward, drawing carts loaded with vegetables and fruit. Animated
young men, wearing tiny straw hats cocked impertinently to one side,
drove frantically by in light gigs that looked like the skeletons of
carriages, holding a rein in each hand, pulling violently at their
horses' mouths, and shouting "Ah--ah!" as if possessed of the devil.
Smart women made the evening "Passeggiata" in landaus and low victorias,
w