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The boats by the wharf, where the road ascends past the villa Rosebery to the village of Posilipo, scarcely moved. Near them, in a group, lounging against the wall and talking rapidly, stood the two sailors from Naples with the boatmen of the Guiseppone.
"Gaspare! That servant who came to the Guiseppone? Oh, no doubt he has rowed the ladies over and will return to the boat?" "No, I think not. I think the Signora will bring him to the Carmine." "Why?" said the Marchesino, sharply. "Why not? He is a strong fellow, and might be useful in a crowd." "Are we not strong? Are we not useful?" "My dear Doro, what's the matter?" "Niente niente!"
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.
The two boatmen had been regaled and had drunk a bottle of wine, and the moon was rising and making the oil lamps of the Guiseppone look pitiful.
As there were but few people in the house, the large dining-room was not in use, and their table was laid in the small restaurant that looks out on the Marina, and was placed close to the window. "At last we are repeating our partie carree of the Guiseppone," said Artois, as they sat down.
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