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"Excuse me, but do you know this neighborhood?" She was being addressed. "Yes." "That is fortunate we do not. Perhaps you will kindly tell us something about it. Is it far to Bagnoli?" "Not very far." "And when you get there?" "I beg your pardon!" "When you get there, is there much to see?" "Not so very much." "Can one lunch there?" "No doubt." "Yes. But I mean, what sort of lunch?
At the foot of the sea-wall tumbled the tideless breakers; their drowsy music counselled enjoyment of the hour and carelessness of what might come hereafter. With no definite purpose, he walked on and on, for the most part absorbed in thought. He passed through the long grotta of Posillipo, gloomy, chilly, and dank; then out again into the sunshine, and along the road to Bagnoli.
On walls and stone-heaps the little lizards darted about, innumerable; in vineyards men were at work dismantling the vine-props, often singing at their task. From Bagnoli, still walking merely that a movement of his limbs might accompany his busy thoughts, he went along by the seashore, and so at length, still long before midday, had come to Pozzuoli.
The gray cliffs towards Bagnoli went down into motionless water gray as they were, but of a different, more pathetic shade. There was a luminous whiteness in the sky that affected the eyes, as snow does. Artois, as he looked, thought this world looked very old, a world arranged for the elderly to dwell in. Was it not, therefore, an appropriate setting for him and for Hermione?
Then, sailing one evening on the sea towards Bagnoli, they saw the house on the islet beyond the Pool of San Francesco. Vere was enchanted by it. "To live in it," she exclaimed, "would be almost like living in the sea!" Hermione, too, was fascinated by its situation, the loneliness, the wildness, yet the radiant cheerfulness of it.
Vineyards and maizefields, pine-trees and poplars, diversify its surface, and through the midst of it runs a long, straight road, dwindling till it reaches the shore at the hamlet of Bagnoli.
Can one get anything clean and wholesome, such as you get in England?" "It would be Italian food." "Oh, dear. Fanny, this lady says we can only get Italian food at Bagnoli!" "Tcha! Tcha!" "But perhaps excuse me, but do you think we could get a good cup of tea there? We might manage with that tea and some boiled eggs. Don't you think so, Fanny? Could we get a cup of " The tram stopped.
"Only two or three days. No, I won't disturb Emile. He may be working." Vere felt that somehow her eager suggestion had deepened the constraint. She said no more, and Hermione presently crossed over to the mainland and began her walk to the road that leads from Naples to Bagnoli. Where was she going? What was she really about to do? Certainly she would not adopt the suggestion of Vere.
Between the sea-beach at Bagnoli and the summit of Ischia, tract followed upon tract of colour that each moment underwent a subtle change, darkening here, there fading into exquisite transparencies of distance, till by degrees the islands lost projection and became mere films against the declining day.
It had four stories, each floor composed of arcades containing eighty separate compartments, making 320 in all. Benjamin had few other sources of information. In the immediate neighbourhood of Pozzuoli is Solfatara, where sulphur is found. A destructive eruption from the crater took place in 1198. Hot springs abound, and the baths at Bagnoli are much frequented to the present day.
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