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And so there was Naples outside, the waters of the Bay dancing in the sunshine of the bright summer afternoon, people bathing and shouting to one another from the diving platforms and the cabins; people galloping by in the little carriages to eat oysters at Posilipo. Lazy, heedless, pleasure-loving wretches! He thought of Doro as he looked at them.
Then comes the evening drive along the gentle winding ascent towards Posilipo with its glorious views over bay and mountains, all tinged with the deep rose and violet of a Neapolitan sunset; or the stroll along the fashionable sea front, named after the luckless Caracciolo the modern hero of Naples, where in endless succession the carriages pass backwards and forwards within the limited space between the sea and the greenery of the Villa Reale.
Familiar and mysterious it was purely to them as to all seamen, like a woman possessed whose soul is far away. Just as the clocks of Posilipo were striking eight the Marchesino steered the boat into the quay of the Antico Guiseppone.
On the hill of Posilipo the Venetian blinds of the houses, in the gardens clouded by the rounded dusk of the great stone pines, were thrust back, the windows were thrown open, the glad sun-rays fell upon the cool paved floors, over which few feet had trodden since the last summer died.
He was now concerned in not turning around and not being troublesome. He knew well what they were talking about behind him. "Lovers, people who do not wish to arrive too soon!" And he forgot to be offended, gloating over the probable generosity of a gentleman in such good company. Ulysses made him stop on the heights of Posilipo.
"Because I can't see half the pack," I replied, "and I am afraid of losing." Some of the company laughed at my answer. Next night I broke the bank held by the Prince the Cassaro, a pleasant and rich nobleman, who asked me to give him revenge, and invited me to supper at his pretty house at Posilipo, where he lived with a virtuosa of whom he had become amorous at Palermo.
As they did so Ruffo presented for a moment his full face to Artois, and Artois swiftly compared it with the face of the woman, and felt sure that they were mother and son. Artois moved on towards the hill of Posilipo, but after taking 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.
There are neither sirens there now, nor any other creatures; but I should be sorry to think I should never see them again. When I look down on them, I can also turn and behold on the other side, across the Bay of Naples, the Posilipo, where one of the enchanters who threw magic over them is said to lie in his high tomb at the opening of the grotto.
You, on the other hand, were as you always are, impetuous and daring.... The next time we shall drink less." The "next time" was an invitation that Ferragut repeated daily. He wanted to take her to dine at one of the trattorias on the road to Posilipo where they could see spread at their feet the entire gulf, colored with rose by the setting sun.
The momentary suggestion of living in a cottage of Posilipo, completely alone, an existence of monastic isolation with all the conveniences of modern life, was dominating her like an obsession. "And yet, after all," she continued, "this atmosphere is not favorable to solitude; this landscape is for love.
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