his hotel, that if
Signor Zanoni sought him, it was in the neighbourhood of that once
celebrated watering-place of the ancients that he should be found.

They passed by Viola's house, but Glyndon resisted the temptation of
pausing there; and after threading the grotto of Posilipo, they wound
by a circuitous route back into the suburbs of the city, and took the
opposite road, which conducts to Portici and Pompeii. It was late at
noon when they arrived at the former of these places. Here they halted
to dine; for Mervale had heard much of the excellence of the macaroni at
Portici, and Mervale was a bon vivant.

They put up at an inn of very humble pretensions, and dined under an
awning. Mervale was more than usually gay; he pressed the lacrima upon
his friend, and conversed gayly.

"Well, my dear friend, we have foiled Signor Zanoni in one of his
predictions at least. You will have no faith in him hereafter."

"The ides are come, not gone."

"Tush! If he be the soothsayer, you are not the Caesar. It is your
vanity that makes you credulous. Thank Heaven, I do not think myself of
such importance that the operations of Nature should be changed in order
to frighten me."

"But why should the operations of Nature be changed? There may be a
deeper philosophy than we dream of,--a philosophy that discovers the
secrets of Nature, but does not alter, by penetrating, its courses."

"Ah, you relapse into your heretical credulity; you seriously suppose
Zanoni to be a prophet,--a reader of the future; perhaps an associate of
genii and spirits!"

Here the landlord, a little, fat, oily fellow, came up with a fresh
bottle of lacrima. He hoped their Excellencies were pleased. He was most
touched--touched to the heart, that they liked the macaroni. Were their
Excellencies going to Vesuvius? There was a slight eruption; they could
not see it where they were, but it was pretty, and would be prettier
still after sunset.

"A capital idea!" cried Mervale. "What say you, Glyndon?"

"I have not yet seen an eruption; I should like it much."

"But is there no danger?" asked the prudent Mervale.

"Oh, not at all; the mountain is very civil at present. It only plays a
little, just to amuse their Excellencies the English."

"Well, order the horses, and bring the bill; we will go before it is
dark. Clarence, my friend,--nunc est bibendum; but take care of the pede
libero, which will scarce do for walking on lava!"

The bottle was finished