The younger one was smiling, looking
at the wall, and as the captain reappeared upon it she almost clapped
with enthusiasm as though applauding a dangerous acrobatic feat.

Believing them to be English, the sailor spoke in that language when
presenting to them the two roses that he carried in his hand. They were
merely flowers, like all others, grown in a land like other lands, but
the frame of the thousand-year-old wall, the propinquity of the alcoves
and drinking shops of a house built by Pansa in the time of the first
Caesars, gave them the interest of roses two thousand years old,
miraculously preserved.

The largest and most luxuriant he gave to the young woman, and she
accepted it smilingly as her natural right. Her companion as soon as
she acknowledged the gift, appeared impatient to get away from the
stranger. "Thanks!... Thanks!" And she pushed along the other one, who
had not yet finished smiling,--the two going hurriedly away. A corner
adorned with a fountain soon hid their steps.

When Ulysses, after a light lunch in the restaurant of Diomedes, came
running to the station, the train was just about to start. He was
planning to see Salerno, celebrated in the Middle Ages for its
physicians and navigators, and then the ruined temples of Paestum. As
he climbed into the nearest coach, he fancied that he spied the veils
of the two ladies vanishing behind a little door that was just closing.

In the station of Salerno he again caught sight of them in a distant
hack disappearing in a neighboring street, and during the afternoon he
frequently ran across them as travelers will in a small city. They met
one another in the harbor, so fatally threatened with bars of moving
sand; they saw each other in the gardens bordering the sea, near the
monument of Carlo Pisacana, the romantic duke of San Juan, a precursor
of Garibaldi, who died in extreme youth for the liberty of Italy.

The young woman smiled whenever she met him. Her companion passed on
with a casual glance, trying to ignore his presence.

At night they saw more of each other, as they were stopping at the same
hotel, a lodging house like all those in the small ports with excellent
meals and dirty rooms. They had adjoining tables, and after a coldly
acknowledged greeting, Ferragut had a good look at the two ladies who
were speaking very little and in a low tone, fearing to be overheard by
their neighbor.

Upon looking at the older one without her veils, he fo