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Updated: June 14, 2025
What were the two going to do on land when the steamer was the property of others?... Would he not have to sail on an inferior boat, running the same risks?... He decided to undo his work, and was about to counsel Ferragut again, declaring that his ideas were mere conjecture and that he must continue living as he was at present, when the captain gave the order for departure.
Ferragut was concentrating his attention in order to comprehend what Toni wished to say. "If England triumphs," the pilot continued, "Liberty will be the fashion.
In half an hour more he was able to embrace his nephew, who was with two other volunteers, an Andulasian and a South American, the three united by brotherhood of birth and by their continual familiarity with death. Ferragut took them to the canteen of a trader established near the cantonment.
Several times the fat lady spoke in a language that reached Ferragut confusedly and which was not English, and their dinner was hardly finished before they disappeared just as they had done in the streets of Pompeii, the older one evidently influencing the other with her iron will. The following morning they all met again in a first-class coach in the station of Salerno.
"What motive have I for pursuing this unknown person?..." And just as he was formulating this question, the other one slowed down a little in order to turn his head and see if he were still being followed. Suddenly a rapid phenomenal transformation took place in Ferragut.
The train would remain immovable for hours together in order to give the right of way to other trains loaded with men and military materials.... In all the stations were soldiers in campaign uniform, banners and cheering crowds. When Ferragut arrived at Naples, fatigued by a journey of forty-eight hours, it seemed to him that the coachman was going too slowly toward the old palace of Chiaja.
Upon looking from the deck into the depths of its hold filled with water, there might be seen a great gash in its side like the mouth of a luminous cavern. Ferragut, while his boat was discharging its cargo under Toni's supervision, passed his days ashore, visiting the city.
He had never felt so strong and so happy. In the window sounded a baritone voice singing one of the songs of Naples, "Oh, sweet land, sweet gulf!..." That certainly was the most beautiful spot in the world. Proud and satisfied with his fate, he would have liked to embrace the waves, the islands, the city, Vesuvius. A bell jangled impatiently in the corridor. Captain Ferragut was hungry.
At their head, as message-bearer for the doctor, was Karl, the secretary that Ferragut had seen in the great old house of the district of Chiaja. This man, in spite of his oily aspect, had several bloody crimes in his life history. He was a worthy superintendent of the group of adventurers inflamed by patriotic enthusiasm who were forwarding supplies to the submarines in the Spanish Mediterranean.
And so she was continuing her life as a spy, shutting her eyes to the future, living only in the present, trying to keep from thinking, considering herself happy if she could see before her even a few days of security. The meeting with Ferragut in the street of Marseilles had revived her drooping spirits, arousing new hope. "Get me out of here; keep me with you.
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