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"The pool of San Francesco, Signorino Marchesino." "Pool of San Francesco. I remember now. That is the place where all the fishermen along the coast towards Nisida go to sleep. I have slept there many times when I was a boy, and so has Viviano. To-night shall we do as the fishermen, Emilio?" There was no pressure in his careless voice.
His gesticulating hands fell to his sides. His expressive face grew melancholy. "Of course. How can you tell? Directly I was out of the sea and dressed, I went to Santa Lucia. I examined every boat, but the white boat with the green line was not there, Basta!" He lit a fresh cigarette and was silent for a moment. Then he said: "Emilio caro, will you come out with me to-night?" "With pleasure."
"Oh!" she cried, "Gaspare hasn't gone!" A look almost of dread, half pretence but with some reality in it, too, came into her face. "Gaspare, forgive me! I was in such a hurry. And it is only Don Emilio!" Her voice was coaxing.
The Prince felt dizzy; he went back into the room and dropped into a chair, for his sight was dim, and his hands shook as he read: "DEAR EMILIO: Your gondola stopped at your palazzo. Did you not know that Cataneo has taken it for la Tinti? If you love me, go to-night to Vendramin, who tells me he has a room ready for you in his house. What shall I do?
Emilio had called him "Panacci." That sounded almost like a declaration of war. Well, he was ready. At dinner his had been the triumph, and Emilio knew it. He meant his triumph to be a greater one before the evening was over.
A misfortune, of which she was unconscious, but which was torture to Emilio, kept up a singular barrier between them. Massimilla, young as she was, had the majestic bearing which mythological tradition ascribes to Juno, the only goddess to whom it does not give a lover; for Diana, the chaste Diana, loved!
As the sailors rowed it out from the Pool the wind had gone down and the sails were useless he looked earnestly up to the windows of the Casa del Mare, longing to pierce its secrets. What was Emilio in that house? A lover, a friend, a bad genius? And the Signora? What was she? The Marchesino was no believer in the virtue of women.
When she had finished the duet with her daughter, Frau Lenore observed that Emilio had a fine voice, like a silver bell, but that now he was at the age when the voice changes he did, in fact, talk in a sort of bass constantly falling into falsetto and that he was therefore forbidden to sing; but that Pantaleone now really might try his skill of old days in honour of their guest!
There she saw Emilio, who, as he went past her opera box, exchanged with her a flash of inquiry. This was all. The Venetian was thunderstruck, while a voice in the Duchess' ear called out: "This is he!"
Emilio; and convince yourself, my friend, that it is necessary to do this; and when it is done the whole world will wonder and say that we have done well, and will not be able to give out that the people here are fools spending the time sucking their fingers." Worse yet, information was sent to the Spaniards of the proposed American attack on the 13th instant, as is shown by the following letter:
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