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Updated: May 9, 2025
The week passed all too swiftly, and then came a letter from Colonel Angeli telling them to return to Naples and witness the results of the eruption. This they decided to do, and bidding good-bye to Signor Floriano and his excellent hotel they steamed across the bay and found the "Vesuve" a vastly different hostelry from the dismal place they had left in their flight from Naples.
The hotel is the Vesuve, not the Vesuvius." "What's the difference?" "I don't know." "All right; you girls just hop in, and leave the rest to me." He tumbled them all into the vehicle, bag and baggage, and then said sternly to the driver: "Ho-tel Ve-suve Ve-suve ho-tel Ve-suve! Drive there darned quick, or I'll break your confounded neck." The carriage started.
"Good morning," said Uncle John. "Fine day, isn't it?" "Did you hear it?" whispered the concierge, as a dull boom, like that of a distant cannon, made the windows rattle in their casements. "Of course," replied Mr. Merrick, carelessly. "Old Vesuve seems on a rampage. But never mind that now. We've just come from America, where the mountains are more polite, and we're going to stop at your hotel."
All of the beggars in Naples, I think, all of the flower-girls and boys, I am sure, and all the wandering serenaders, I will swear, were under our windows at the Vesuve, from six o'clock on the morning the "Princess Irene" sailed; and there need be no wonder when it is known that Poor Jr. had thrown handfuls of silver and five-lire notes from our balcony to strolling orchestras and singers for two nights before.
The whiskered man, whose cap was elaborately embroidered in gold with the words "Hotel du Vesuve," seemed to understand the driver. He sighed drearily and said to Mr. Merrick: "You must pay him thirty lira." "How much is that?" "Six dollars." "Not by a jugfull!" "You made no bargain." "I couldn't. He can't talk." "He claims it is you who cannot talk." "What!"
Next morning after breakfast he wandered through the lobby and paused at the little office, where he discovered that the proprietor of this hotel was a brother of that Floriano who managed the Hotel du Vesuve. That gave him an excuse to talk with the man, who spoke very good English and was exceedingly courteous to his guests especially when they were American.
I don't like to take chances with three girls on my hands. They are a valuable lot, Colonel, and worth saving." The boyish Italian instantly looked grave. Then he led Uncle John away from the others, although doubtless he was the only officer present able to speak or understand English, and said to him: "Where are you living?" "At the hotel named after your sick mountain the Vesuve." "Very good.
They decided to leave their heavy baggage at the Hotel du Vesuve, and carried only their suit-cases and light luggage aboard the little steamer that was bound across the bay for Sorrento.
Once in a while they would venture from the Hotel to run footraces with the yelping Lazzaroni or try to look at Vesuve without paying seven or eight members of the Camorra for the Privilege. After being chased back into the Hotel, they would sit down and address Post-Cards by the Hour, telling how much they were enjoying the stay in Napoli, home of Song and Laughter.
It plowed its way jerkily through the dust-laden streets and finally stopped at an imposing looking structure. The day was growing darker, and an electric lamp burned before the entrance. But no one came out to receive them. Uncle John climbed out and read the sign. "Hotel du Vesuve." It was the establishment he had been advised to stop at while in Naples.
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