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Sight-seeing in Rome, in the guise of Gallic wastrels, under the tutelage of a harborside slum host, was truly an experience for me after my former station as a nobleman of the Republic, and my ruin and disguise and flight. I positively enjoyed it.
It was after sunset when we were back with Doris and Nebris, but still far from dark; in fact, light enough to see well. "Now Alopex," said Doris, briskly, "make your best speed to the harborside and see if you can find a sure ship sailing at dawn, with a captain we can trust, to get these lads out of Marseilles at once. I doubt if you can find one, but do your best."
There was a scraping of fiddle from an upper window, the sound of heavy capering feet and the stale laughter of harborside women. On Hardy Street he continued to the last house at the right, the farther side of which gave across a yard of uneven bricks, straggling bushes and aged splitting apple trees and an expanse of lush grass ending abruptly in a wooden embankment and the water.
As soon as Dromo was gone we opened our wallets, made ourselves comfortable, disposed all our money about us in the body-belts we had bought at Genoa and went out, unopposed and apparently unremarked. Through the lively streets of Marseilles, in the mellow glow of the evening sunshine, we made for the harborside, Agathemer nosing the air like a dog on the scent.
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